


Dark Bonds

by LadyBee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Cousin Incest, Dark, Dark Jon Snow, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, I'm going to hell by toboggan with this one, Incest, nothing healthy here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 13:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBee/pseuds/LadyBee
Summary: At times Jon was surprised at his own lack of morals. Death could destroy a great deal of things, but nothing rotted as fast as one’s soul. He was probably going mad as Bran had said. Targaryen or not, Jon wondered what would have happened if he had never found out about his true parentage. Would he still feel the same about Arya?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...This one was already published on my Tumblr and it was two pieces dedicated to @circe1fanatic. It was born from a dark Jon prompt and I got way too excited about it, so I'm developing this story a bit more.  
> Fair warning: This is a dark fic. There is nothing remotely healthy about the relationships here and if you don't feel comfortable with this,I suggest you to read something else.  
> As I said, I'm going to hell by toboggan with this one.

She arrived at the gates with the first winter blizzard. A guard came to Jon with a flushed face and trying to breathe with difficulty. Jon looked at the man with annoyance. It it was an attack the horns would have been used and the castle’s defenses would be ready in a matter of minutes. A guard being sent with a message was just a minor inconvenience.

“There is...There is a girl...” The guard could barely speak and as he tried his breath turned to smoke. Jon’s senses were suddenly alert and Ghost sniffed the air as if he had catch a familiar scent.

“What girl?” Jon asked soberly as he tried to keep his expectations in check. His heart was racing as if he was drunk over battle adrenaline. _Be still, my foolish hard. We’ve been mistaken before._

“At the Great Hall...” The man said. “She asks for you, Your Grace. She says...”

“I’ll listen to whatever she says. Tell the cookers to prepare her something to eat and put her by the fire.” Jon commanded. He could be wrong again, but he wouldn’t let a girl die in such a nasty weather. Whoever it was, food and warmth would guarantee that the girl wouldn’t fall ill.

“She already commanded so, Your Grace.” The guard’s eyes were as big as a plate. “She says she is Lady Arya.”

_Little sister._

Jon’s breath suddenly stopped for a second and he could feel his hands trembling. Once more he tried to control his feelings and expectations, but that name was enough to bring him to tears.

Jon didn’t wait for any further explanations. He left the guard behind and walked towards the Great Hall as fast his self-awareness allowed. He was King in the North, not a green boy of six-and-ten. He had duties, responsibilities and a level of dignity that he should observe.

Ghost passed him half way to the Hall. He wasn’t so receptive. In fact he was snarling and baring his teeth as if he was getting ready to attack or to defend his master.

When he arrived at the Hall, Jon opened and closed his eyes a couple of times just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. She was looking straight at him and her gray eyes were teary as she bit her bottom lip as she usually did whenever she was feeling anxious.

Jon ran to her and opened his arms to receive Arya like a blessing. She never disappointed. He couldn’t tell for how long they remained like that; hugging each other so tight that they might have broken a couple of ribs. Arya was crying and Jon was mute. The only thing he could managed was to run his fingers through her hair and smell her familiar scent. _This is real. She is home._

If the gods could grant him a wish, Jon would ask for that moment to last forever so he could feel that overwhelming happiness until the end of times. He had never felt like that before. Not even when he found Brandon and Rickon.

“Welcome home.” He finally said with his voice full of warmth and joy. For the first time in nearly five years, he felt young.

“I’ve missed you so much.” They said it together as if they needed one last proof that everything was real. This time both started to laugh between tears.

If only that moment could last forever and his blood remained dormant. At times he was inclined to think that his Targaryen blood was in fact a curse. Like a disease that ran in a family’s blood line, Jon could feel madness sneaking into his mind as shameful lust and jealousy ate him from inside out.

Arya brought with her a boy. _A man is more likely._ Gendry Waters was more than just a decent blacksmith and those were always rare and handy to a castle, but every day Jon looked at the man and convinced himself that Gendry was something like a stinking animal he would have to kick out at some point.

Arya had promised that man a position in the household in exchange for his company on her journey back to Winterfell. Jon would never deny her something like that. If anything, Gendry should have his gratitude for escorting Arya back home, but as the days passed Jon started to regret his decision and his own moral conduct.

Anyone with eyes could see the way Waters looked at Arya. Anyone with ears could listen to their little quarrels and bickering that sounded like those of a young couple. Jon wasn’t sure that Waters was dazzled by her, maybe enough to make something stupid, but he couldn’t tell if that was something mutual. In fact, Jon was more interested to get rid of that man before those feelings could turn into something else.

“You are getting obvious.” Bran told him one night as they sat by the fire to have a bit of mulled wine. “I think I don’t have to remember you that Arya will be displeased if anything happens to Waters.”

“I can find her a better pet to keep her entertained.” Jon said between his clenched teeth. “I want him out of here.”

“She promised him a position.” Bran insisted as he tried to sound reasonable. “Besides...You are wasting your time if you think that even without Water and without the weight of the world “brother”, if you think Arya will ever correspond your feelings in the way you want her to.”

“And what way is that?” His voice came out dark and heavy with sarcasm. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m talking about the tragedy of Rhaegar and Lyanna that keeps playing in your mind like an old tune. I’m talking about you noticing that she is no longer a child and that you seem to have inherited more from Rhaegar than you though. This Targaryen sickness should end.” At that Jon threw his head back and remained quiet for a second.

“I was thinking about something that might come to be a reasonable solution to our problems.” Jon said darkly. “You think that I don’t know what they whisper behind my back, but I know there are those who would gladly slit my throat to get you back on the Throne.”

“As is my birth right. You can’t simply usurp me and pretend that loyalty to my name won’t be of relevance in the outcome of this little dispute between us.” Bran answered bitterly. They could leave in peace if they put their minds to it, but Brandon would never forgive Jon for taking the Winter Throne and naming himself king.

“It won’t happen, Brandon.” Jon snapped back. “I fought for this land and I got rid of Bolton while you were still trying to find your way back to home and humanity. I was proclaimed.” Jon dried his cup in one single gulp before looking back at his crippled cousin. “The war isn’t over yet and I don’t see how a young lad like you could managed to lead men into battle from your wheelchair. It is a matter of pragmatism and reason. Do you want to discuss birthrights? Fine. I will discuss birthrights and my participation in the battles to come. Do you want me to fight and defend the North? I will do it. If what you want is my cooperation and Lord Eddard’s line ruling the North, I can agree with that. I’ll take Arya as my wife and the children we will have will rule over the North for a thousand years. This is the only deal I’ll offer.”

“Your Targaryen color are finally showing.” Bran replied bitterly. “You just forgot that Arya isn’t the sort of woman that would agree with this without complains or resistance. She isn’t a hopeless victim as your mother was. My sister is made of stronger material and she won’t have you. Why would she see anything but a brother in you? Let her have a bit of happiness and a simple life with that man for all I care.”

“I am not asking for your permission, Brandon.” Jon said as he rose form his seat with a sour face. “What I want is for you to get rid of that man and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I won’t kill a man so you can bed my sister.” Bran’s anger was finally brought to the surface and Jon could see in the boy’s eyes the strength of a fearless wolf ready to attack.

“I never said that I wanted to kill him.” Jon smiled at him with condescension. “I have a more practical idea in mind. Since you want to be a lord so bad, I’m giving you the Dreadfort as your new household and you can even call yourself Lord Stark of Dreadfort. You will take Waters with you and as a reward...I think I can reach an agreement with Reed. Lady Meera Stark…It has a good sound to it, don’t you think?”

“You are disgusting.” Bran looked at him with a livid face.

“What did you expect from a bastard?” Jon’s eyes were suddenly dark and cold. “I won’t have you threatening my claim, as I won’t have Daenerys threatening us with dragons. I’m done playing by your father’s code of honor. Since I’m damned from birth, it’s time to accept the beast in me. It happens that the beast just found his mate. You leave in a week.”

“Arya will never accept it!” Brandon growled.

“I will love to prove you wrong.” Jon turned his back at Brandon.

At times Jon was surprised at his own lack of morals. Death could destroy a great deal of things, but nothing rotted as fast as one’s soul. He was probably going mad as Bran had said. Targaryen or not, Jon wondered what would have happened if he had never found out about his true parentage. Would he still feel the same about Arya?

He knew the answer, but it was disgusting to admit that it had always been there, regardless to anything that his heritage could mean. It was in the way Ygritte’s stubbornness would remember him of a little girl. In the way Alys Karstark smiled with bravery and pride. It was in Val’s fierce nature. Only the gods could tell for how long he had been looking for Arya in every woman that crossed his path, but it took a war and years apart for the inevitable to happen. She was no longer a girl with tangled hair and scratches and bruises all over her body.

Like poison, Arya took over his body. The very blood running through his veins said that they belonged together. It had always been like this, haven’t it? With every sentence spoken at the same time; the countless embraces and kisses; and the powerful sensation of touching her hair and smelling the faint scent of wild flowers, earth and pinewood. Everything about her had been made according to all of his preferences. Arya was his confident and friend; his home and his heart. He belonged to her and Jon was getting eager and restless at the thought of claiming her for good.

He couldn’t tell if she had sensed something in the air. Arya would look at him with suspicion and cold curiosity. She wanted to ask something of him. Probably beg for Bran to stay in Winterfell. Jon could get himself a bargain out of that, but then it wouldn’t have the same taste as if Arya had surrender to her own desires. In the ended he didn’t have to wait much for Arya to come to him.

Jon was on his own chambers trying keep his mind quiet so he could get a bit of sleep later. Arya didn’t bother to knock at his door. She never did. Why would it change now? Jon being king meant little to nothing to her.

“I need to talk to you.” She said bluntly. Arya was never the sort of woman that would be discreet about her discontentment.

Jon turned to face her. Arya was wearing a nightgown and a long robe to keep her warm and preserve her modesty. If he knew her at all, Arya had tried to sleep but failed.

“What can I do for you, my dear?” Jon asked with kindness. He was getting good at hiding his true intentions.

“Is it really necessary?” Arya asked as she walked towards his bed to seat on it. Oh...If only she knew the dangers of doing it. “I know things have been difficult between you and Bran, but the Dreadfort? Why would you send him there?”

“I’m not doing it as a punishment, Arya.” What a shameful lie. “I need someone I trust to take care of the Bolton’s lands and Brandon seems to be the natural choice. Do not worry. I won’t send him alone.”

“So I’ve heard.” Her voice was suddenly sober. “Why Gendry? They barely know each other and I don’t think this is a good idea. I promised him...”

“A respectable position and this is what he will get for all the good services to House Stark.” Jon replied cautiously. “A wage, a house and a forge of his own and the honor to make swords to keep Brandon safe. Anyone would agree that I’m being very generous.”

“Indeed.” She lowered her head a bit. “He thinks you don’t like him.”

“Why would I dislike a competent blacksmith? Especially one that brought you back home safely.” Jon tried to sound convincing, but at times his jealousy took the best of him. “I just think he will be more useful if he stayed with Bran.”

“Gendry thinks you disapprove of our friendship.” Arya finally said. “I tried to tell him that it wasn’t the case.”

“You always had a talent for making unusual friends. He is just another one. I’m sure you’ll be able to see him again in an eventual trip to the Dreadfort.” Jon add as a matter of fact.

“It means you won’t let me go with them, doesn’t it?” Arya asked with a hint of sadness. “We just got together and now you are sending Bran away.”

“For a good cause, my dear.” Jon went to her immediately. He knelled in front of her and caressed her face as if she was a child. “I just want to make the right decision for us.”

“Than let Bran stay a little longer.” Arya asked.

“I’m sure you understand the kind of factions that are gathering behind Brandon. I don’t think he would try to depose me, but I can’t let potential traitors to have a name to use for their own purposes. Bran will be safe and cared for. He will even have a wife to look after him, if Reed agree with me in this.”

“You don’t think of me as a threat? I’m as much a true born Stark as he is.” Arya pointed carefully. “Do you think I could try to depose you?”

“I would never think of it.” Jon said immediately. “You are the only one that I trust. Is it a crime for me to want to keep you near?”

“I don’t think so, but still...I never thought you would sent my brother to house arrest.” Arya answered bitterly. “Don’t even try to deny it. I know exactly what you are doing.”

“This is a temporary arrangement.” Jon tried to explain before seating by her side on his bed. “Have I ever done anything to upset you?”

“No.” She answered simply. Her voice even sounded a bit childish.

Jon sat with his back resting against the bed’s headboard and mad sign for Arya to come and seat near him. A long time ago she would go to his bed whenever she had a nightmare and they would sleep together so Jon could keep the bad dreams away. He wonder if he still could keep the nightmares away, only with a different method.

“Come here.” Jon said and Arya obeyed. She sat between his legs so Jon could embrace her from behind. “You know that I would never do anything to hurt you, don’t you?” He asked before kissing the base of her neck. For a brief second Jon could feel her shivering.

“I do.” Arya agreed. “But why things have to be like this?”

“So we can be safe and prepared for the war that will inevitably reach out gates.” He insisted. “I need Bran there, keeping the peace and not giving foolish lords hope to depose me. And I want Waters there to help him, instead of keeping you distracted.”

“Why would Gendry keep me distracted? Distracted from what?” Arya questioned as she tried to turn and look at Jon’s face.

“From your true pack.” Jon said as he caressed her cheeks gently. “He doesn’t know his place and he keeps looking at you with hope that eventually you will return his feelings. This is not proper and he has no place in your life.”

“Now you are being absurd. I’ve told you. He is a friend and he helped me a great deal. There is nothing else and even if that was the case, since when you looked down on people like this?” Arya rebel nature had been triggered.

“I don’t like it when I see him looking at you as he does.” Jon said in a very decisive tone. “After all these years you are finally home and I intend to keep you here. You are the Lady of Winterfell and not an adornment to be appreciated by his eyes.”

“I’m not the Lady of Winterfell. I’m not even sure of what I am now that you proclaimed yourself King and suddenly found out that you are Rhaegar and Lyanna’s son.” Arya argued. “I’m in some sort of limbo just waiting for you to decide what to do with me.” At that Jon kissed the base of her neck again.

“What would you have me do with you?” He asked almost in a whisper.

“I don’t know. Name me for a position in your council or at least let me manage the castle. I can run the household if you let me to.” Arya suggested without paying attention to how Jon’s hands slid the rem of her nightgown up.

“I have something more suitable in mind.” Jon said when his hands got near her tights. “I could make you Lady of Winterfell officially.”

“How?” When Arya noticed his hand on her tight it was too late. In a blink of an eye, Jon slid his hand between her legs to touch her in an indecorous way as he kept kissing her neck. “What…?”

“I’m in need of a Queen.” He said with his voice low, deep and dark. “I also need to put an end to those who question the legitimacy or my rule, but the main reason for it is that I can’t stand the idea of another man laying hands on you, so I’ll just make official what we have always known to be true.” His fingers sank withing her, making a little sound of surprise escape her mouth. “You are mine and I’m yours. It have always been like this, but I’m afraid my blood now demands more from you than just hugs and kisses on my cheek. I’ll have you, Arya; and I want that boy gone once he is reminded that you belong to me and no one else.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The journey back North was worst than she had anticipated. Not because of the weather, nor the company, but because for most of the time Arya was afraid of what she would find once she reached Winterfell.

After seeing Robb’s mutilated body being paraded in front of traitors, her mother being thrown in the river and all the butchery of the Red Wedding, to have hope of finding what remained of her family had a tasted of doom.

Gendry tried to keep her spirits up, at leas while they were south of the Neck. He didn’t like the cold weather or the snow, but to Arya those were good old friends.

They managed to reach Winterfell’s gates at the same time that the blizzard took over the land. It was a good omen or at least a very fortunate coincidence. Arya doubted Gendry would survive another night in the wild, especially with such a harsh weather.

As expected, the guards tried to prevent her from entering the castle, but with Nymeria and Gendry by her side Arya’s will was not to be ignored. The she-wolf was an evidence of her identity, or at least too damn wild and ferocious to convince the guards that staying on her mistress way wasn’t a good idea.

They were taken inside the Great Hall by servants that Arya didn’t remember. There was a fire waiting for them and as Arya removed her gloves to warm her hands by the fireplace, she looked directly at one of the guards.

“Tell His Grace of my arrival.” Arya said with the confidence only nobility could afford. “Have the cookers preparing us something to eat as well.”

“And who should I announce?” The guard looked at her with a hint of disdain. If Nymeria had entered the hall with them, that stupid man would never dare to speak to her like that.

Arya’s left hand rested on Needle’s hilt, letting it show that she wasn’t someone to be disrespected.

“Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell, younger daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark.” She said in a deadly cold tone. “If you don’t want my brother to have you hanged, than you better be fast about it.”

Arya wasn’t sure if it was her tone of threat or the sight of the sword what made the man’s face get pale. The only thing she knew what that at the mention of her name, the guard run and disappeared into the dark hallways as if he was running for his life.

As she waited, Arya’s heart started to beat as fast as a war drum. She felt suddenly anxious and self-aware. Her hands tried to make her hair somewhat presentable without much success. Gendry looked at her and considered a mockery, but in the end he remained quiet. It wasn’t his place to interfere with her family’s matters.

The white wolf arrived first. Ghost was now a monstrous beast as big as a horse and he wasn’t pleased with the smell of strangers. Arya suspected that Nymeria’s smell was to blame for his defensive position. He wasn’t used to be around other wolves.

From the dark hallways Jon emerged. It took her a second to recognize him under the full beard, heavy furs and long hair pulled back as her father used to wear. He was no longer a green boy with snow melting in his hair. Something about his face was cold and hard like the Wall itself, but as soon as his eyes scanned her face, something in him softened and Jon opened his arms to receive her.

Arya couldn’t tell for how long they remained like that; holding each other as if they were too afraid to wake up and find out it had all been a dream. His smell, his warmth, the feeling of his fingers running through her hair were enough for her to believe that it was all real.

“Welcome home.” Jon said and his voice warmed her inside like a cup of mulled wine would have done.

“I’ve missed you so much.” They said it at the same time and Arya wished that moment to last forever.

She couldn’t have dreamed of anything sweeter than their reunion, but as soon as Jon let go of her and his eyes noticed Gendry’s presence in the hall, Arya saw a sudden change in her brother’s eyes.

Jon straightened his back and his eyes became cold. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as if he was convinced that Gendry was somehow a threat to be eliminated. That man in front of her was not Jon Snow. That was the King in The North and he didn’t like strangers walking into his house, or staying by her side.

Later that day, when they were finally alone, Arya decided to give Jon an explanation.

“He is a friend.” She said as Jon handed her a horn of strong ale. “We’ve met when I escaped King’s Landing. When I returned to Westeros, I found him at an in half way to the North. He insisted to escort me.”

“Then I suppose I should thank him for his services.” Jon said soberly as he avoided to look her in the eyes. “He will have silver and a horse in the morning.”

“I didn’t promise him silver.” Arya replied and Jon finally looked at her. He seemed like a man that had been informed of a robbery in his property. “I said you would give him a position in the household. He is a talented blacksmith. Those can be quite handy in war time.”

“I’ll see what use I can have for him.” Jon tried to smile. “I won’t let his services to House Stark go unrewarded.”

Jon honored his word, even if he made it no secret that he despised Gendry. Arya couldn’t tell why he was acting like that, but she hadn’t been the only one to notice Jon’s odd behavior.

Bran was friendly enough and it brought an unexplainable joy to her heart to see her little brother again. Although that was a moment for celebration and happiness, Arya soon learned that a great deal of bitterness and distrust had poisoned Bran and Jon’s relationship. All because of the Throne and the right to be called King.

“He usurped us.” Bran once told her. “Open your eyes! I refuse to believe you to be this naive!”

“What would you have me do?” Arya argued with exasperation. “He claimed Winterfell back and he has Robb’s will. I don’t see what can be done to change this and I’m not convinced it should be changed.”

“A will and a sword are not enough to suppress blood rights. I am Robb’s legitimate heir.” Bran insisted. “Your own rights are being affected by Jon’s intransigence.”

“I do not care for the throne or the title.” Arya said it but deep down she knew Bran to be right. “He has the experience and the acceptance of other lords.”

“Than you will see Rhaegar’s son usurping us, suppressing our lineage and do nothing about it?” Bran’s anger brought to surface a secret he had been keeping to himself. A secret that could bring the Seven Kingdoms down and change everything for the Starks.

For a while Arya wondered if Jon knew about it. She observed him closely to find an answer and after a while it became clear that although Bran had told him about Rhaegar and Lyanna, Jon was trying to live as if that meant nothing.

Targaryen or not, Jon carried himself as a true born Stark and Arya believed it to be a source of stability for the North in a way Bran wouldn’t be able to provide. However, as the time passed the tensions between Jon and Bran became more evident and potentially dangerous. Arya couldn’t tell if the problem between them was solely because of their dispute, of if there was something else.

Bran wasn’t the only one Jon was antagonizing. Gendry complained more than once about how the King in the North treated the blacksmith with despise. Only when Jon determinate that Bran and Gendry should be sent to the Dreadfort for reasons that made little to no sense to her, Arya realized that she would have to intervene.

Arya was convinced that Jon wouldn’t be swayed by reason, politics or even a sense of duty towards her father’s memory. Arya didn’t like the part she was about to play, but her love for Bran and her loyalty demanded for her to take action.

She entered the Lord’s Chambers with a bitter taste in her mouth. In another time that would be unthinkable. Arya would never have the need to argue with Jon in order to defend Bran’s right to stay in Winterfell, but those days were long gone. If they were to survive the war that would soon reach their gates, they would have to stay together as a pack and for it to happen Arya would have to embrace her role and position as the voice of reason.

The alpha female. A leader in her own right.

There was a deliberate innocence to her moves and voice that night, in a way that made Arya sound like someone else entirely. It was just another role and another face for her to wear and it was far from being the most unpleasant one.

Jon bought the lie as Arya sat on his bed as she used to do when they were children. His eyes, always so hard, cold and distrustful, were tender and warm just for her. His voice as he called her “my dear” was condescending, but still...The way Jon talked to her was a demonstration of her own power inside the northern regime. At that moment Arya was convinced that it would be only a matter of time for her to convince him of letting Bran stay.

A few kisses and hugs, nostalgic conversation and the trust that had always been so strong between them would be enough to make Jon realize the extension of his mistakes. Arya was sure that she had the upper hand in their little power play, but the way he talked so closely to her ear; how he embraced her and kissed her neck; should have been enough of a warning that Jon was not only enjoying the game, but also preparing the board for his final move.

“I have something more suitable in mind.” Jon said without Arya realizing how near her tights his hands were. “I could make you Lady of Winterfell officially.”

Was that it? He was truly offering her a tittle? Was it an attempt of buying her loyalty in the matter, or just Jon trying to dissuade her from that argument?

A part of her was tempted by the idea of holding the title that once belonged to her mother, but Arya let her feelings for him to blind her for the deep true behind that offer.

“How?” When Arya noticed his hand on her tight it was too late. In a blink of an eye, Jon slid his hand between her legs to touch her in an indecorous way as he kept kissing her neck. “What…?”

Arya was suddenly dizzy and confused. She didn’t know what to do or how to react to Jon’s sudden display of dominance and...Lust.

A million thoughts crossed her mind in a blink of an eye. She could scream or try to fight him, but who would come for her? Who would dare to go against the King in the North? Maybe Gendry could be that stupid, but he was outside the castle, in his own room by the forge. Even if Gendry interrupted that moment, Jon would have him beheaded for the audacity.

“I’m in need of a Queen.” He said with his voice low, deep and dark. “I also need to put an end to those who question the legitimacy or my rule, but the main reason for it is that I can’t stand the idea of another man laying hands on you, so I’ll just make official what we have always known to be true.” His fingers sank withing her, making a little sound of surprise escape her mouth. “You are mine and I’m yours. It have always been like this, but I’m afraid my blood now demands more from you than just hugs and kisses on my cheek. I’ll have you, Arya; and I want that boy gone once he is reminded that you belong to me and no one else.”

Arya couldn’t breathe for a moment. Her nails sank in his tights and her whole body got tense. Jon’s left arm kept her pressed against his chest and Arya could feel his erection rubbing against her ass as his fingers moved inside her.

“Just relax, my love.” He whispered to her before kissing her cheek. “I want for both of us to enjoy.”

She closed her eyes and thought about Mercy and all the faced she had worn. Her mind took her back to Braavos and the courtesans pleasure barges in the canals. Arya had seen men touching those exquisite creatures like that. Her naivety had once make Arya dream of how would feel like to be kissed, touched, and worshiped like those women, but she would never have the beauty for it.

The resistance in her slowly faded. Jon took her earlobe into his mouth and played with it. Arya tilted her head back and let it rest against Jon’s shoulder. There was a sense of impotence to that moment, but there was also a part of her that didn’t want Jon to stop. It was like a dream inside a dream. Something she might have fantasized when she was alone and feeling deprived of any kind of love.

His nose traced her neck and every now and then Jon would leave open mouthed kissed and bites on her skin. His arm became more of a support to her languid body than a rope to keep her from moving. Jon’s fingers made sinuous movements inside her and as Arya relaxed they became more fluid and pleasant. Her ass kept rubbing against his cock and every now and then Jon would growl and breathe with difficulty. Eventually Jon decided he had enough of that.

He pushed her to bed, making her lay flat on her stomach. She saw him remove his clothes as she tried to get up from bad. Before Arya could move away, Jon was already back. His body covering hers as body remained trapped between his arms.

Jon tore her nightgown apart so he could have access to her breasts. He grinned with dark satisfaction before claiming her mouth. His hands parted her legs to accommodate his body between them.

Her hands tried to push him away for a moment. Jon allowed her bit of space so she could breathe. His body still kept her in place as she looked at his face.

There was a cold acceptance, entwined with need she couldn’t quite describe inside his eyes. That was wrong, wasn’t it? Even if he was Rhaegar’s son and not her blood brother, they still grew up together.

“This is wrong.” She whispered to him as if she was trying to convince both of them.

Jon seemed to ignore her argument as he entwined his fingers with hers and kissed her neck until Arya felt dizzy and numb by his scent. This blissful sensations were suddenly replaced by the pain as Jon entered her with a swift movement.

Arya bit his shoulder and her eyes were filled with tears as her body tried to adjust to the unexpected intrusion. Jon stood very still for a moment as she tried to recover her breath. When his hips started to move again Jon tried to be gentle.

She couldn’t tell for how long the pain lasted. It could have been a minute or an hour, but after a while Arya could no longer feel it. Her hips moved along with his and there was this wild frenzy taking all over her body. Her skin was on fire and at every thrust Jon sent her closer to the edge of her conscience until sheer pleasure took her body like a mighty force, like a gift from the gods.

The night passed and every time Jon’s hands reached for her Arya felt a bit of her humanity being taken in a way not even the House of Black and White have managed.

He was making a statement of his claim. Just like the title and the throne, Jon wasn’t willing to surrender anything. He was making it plain for anyone to see that she belonged to him as well.

When Arya woke up in the morning on the Lord’s Bed, Jon was nowhere to be seen. She was suddenly confused, shocked and embarrassed. She thought of Bran, of Rickon, Robb and their father for a moment. She thought about Sansa and her mother as well. That made her feel nauseous, but despite of the discomfort between her legs, Arya tried to convince herself that it had all been a dream. It was the blood on the sheets and what remained of her nightgown what put an end to those illusions.

Arya grabbed her robe from the floor and dressed it before leaving the room as fast as her intimate discomfort allowed.

She hid inside her room for hours without having the courage to look at her own reflex in the exquisite copper mirror that Jon had given her a couple of weeks before. Arya wasn’t sure if she could face Bran after that night. She wasn’t even sure if she could face Jon. Just the thought of it was enough to get her shaky and at the verge of tears.

After hours, or maybe minutes, a servant knocked at the door and announced that her presence was required at the courtyard.

At the courtyard Arya noticed the unusual agitation of men and horses. It had snowed all night and the floor was all white and if it wasn’t for the harsh winter and her own desolation, Arya would say that it was a beautiful white day.

Bran had been placed in a wheelhouse with the Stark banner painted on it. Arya went to the window and held his hand.

“No! No. No! You can’t go!” She said exasperated as she tried to open the door of the wheelhouse to get him out of it. “I won’t allow it! Get my brother out of this shit right now!” Arya commanded to the guards was slowly gathered around them.

“I doubt there’s much we can do now.” Bran answered bitterly as he held her hand. “It won’t be forever. As soon as Jon is convinced that I’m no longer a threat or that he needs my abilities more than he fears them, I’ll be back.”

“To the Seven Hells with it! You are the rightful Lord of Winterfell! He can’t do it with you!” Arya said as tears of anger and deception took over her mind.

A rough strong hand touched her arm and she turned her face to look at Gendry standing by her side. He was dressed in his warmest clothes and carried his hammer on his back. He put her back on the floor and looked at her with sad blue eyes.

“He already did.” Gendry declared soberly. “I’m not stupid to believe that this has anything to do with him honoring the promise you made me. I’m thankful for the forge, the wage and the safe home, but I know damn well that it will be either this or my head on a spike for daring to look your way.”

“You can’t go.” Arya declared. “Let me talk to Jon. I’ll convince him to let both of you stay.”

“He can’t afford bend to your will now, sister.” Bran’s voice sounded bitter. “If last night didn’t make him change his mind, now that the sun is shinning and he has laid his claim on you...He can’t afford giving in to your caprices. Not without having his authority questioned. You are still a true born Stark of Winterfell and the key to the North.” He turned his face so he wouldn’t look at her crying. “I’ll try to forget what you did. I know you fought for my interests as much as you could. Marry him before he gets a bastard in you and before death, fire and blood reaches this gates.”

Arya had no words to answer to Bran’s accusations. Before she could say anything she felt an arm around her shoulders and a thick cloak covering her. That was Jon’s way of reinforcing his authority and remember all those who were watching the scene that Arya was his.

“You don’t have to worry about it.” Jon said in a cold and sober tone. “Take the time to think about what it’s best for this land and our people. Both Eddard and Robb would agree that I’m the best choice, given the circumstances.”

“I doubt they would like you for bedding my sister just to prove a point.” Bran snapped back, making Arya cover part of her face in shame.

“You better go now. I won’t have you insulting me and my future wife another time.” Jon hit the wood of the wheelhouse to give sign for the party to start moving.

As they moved out of the courtyard, Arya tried to run to them, but Jon had her locked within his arms before she could give three steps ahead.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It had been worst than he expected, but it had been his mistake to believe that Arya would ever accept Brandon’s departure gracefully. To convince Jon to let him stay had been the reason why she went to the Lord’s Chambers in the first place. Maybe even the reason why she played along with his dark desires.

Arya fell to her knees as she cried. She looked defeated and exhausted as Bran’s party disappeared in the horizon. Jon tried to help her back to her feet, but Arya gave his hand a hurtful slap. For a moment he didn’t know how to react to her display of hostility; but now he was aware that he was walking on thin ice with her.

His sense of entitlement to her affections made him blind to the danger. Jon didn’t want to have Arya as an enemy. He loved her way too much to even consider the possibility. More than love, he needed her to give a final layer of legitimacy to his claim and pacify the land. If Arya stood by his side, no one would dare to question his authority. Bolton knew it as well. The difference between them was that Jon had the true Arya Stark and she loved him. Soon she would accept that it was time for this love to grow up.

Arya rose from the ground with the dignity of a queen. Her face was a mask of cold indifference to his presence. She passed by him and entered the castle again without saying a word. Jon stood there, looking at her back as she vanished in the shadows of the castle. Songs talked about love, kisses and all the bliss of finding the one who was your other half, but they never mentioned how difficult for both parts accept those feelings.

She didn’t show up to have dinner with him as she always did. Jon questioned the servants about her absence and they simply said that Lady Stark was in her room. Well...Lady Stark was supposed to be by his side in the Great Hall, to show the North a strong message of stability, leadership and union. As long as she refused to reinforce his claim, Jon’s reign would be at risk.

Once Jon finished his meal he left the Great Hall and wait strait to her room. He stood at her closed door and considered for a second if he should give her a bit more of time. The problem was that Jon didn’t want to waste another second without her.

He opened the door and enter the cold and dark room. In what seemed to be a fit of rage, Arya destroyed some of the furniture and most of her belonging had been thrown to the floor. Regardless to the warning in that scene, Jon entered the room as if it was his own.

“Get out!” A feminine voice shouted from a dark corner. Arya was seating at the floor with a cup in hand and an empty jar by her side. She looked at him with the mad eyes of a beast inside a jail and that was exactly what could turn her in to the most dangerous person in the continent.

“You lack the authority to cast me out. I’m not going anywhere before somethings are clear.” Jon answered as he removed his cloak and gloves to make himself comfortable.

Jon made the stupid mistake of turning his back at her for a second. Before he could hear the steps, or even her breath, Arya had a blade to his throat.

“Is this enough authority to you?” Her voice was little more than a poisonous whisper and Jon held his breath for a second.

“There are guards at the corridor and with Bran right now. If I die here, Brandon will die too.” That piece of lie bought him a bit of space between his neck and the sharp blade.

“You are worst than I thought.” Arya said as she put the blade down. “Leave me alone. Yours is the last face I want to see right now.”

“Am I?” He turned to face her properly. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I suggested to make you Lady of Winterfell, nor when I made my intentions clear.”

“As if I could stop you.” She said bitterly as she lowered her head.

“You speak as if you were a helpless woman when we both know the truth.” Jon gave one step closer to her, with all the caution of a feline. “You would have stopped me by any means you thought to be necessary, but the only thing I heard from you were obscene moans.”

“How could I fight the one person that I trusted with my life?” She looked at him with eyes full of angry tears. “I would have done anything for you.”

“I think last night made it clear. Now is not the time for you to have second thoughts about the more practical aspect of our relationship.” His voice warmed up a bit as he got closer to her. One sudden move and Arya would open him from cock to throat in a blink of an eye. “You will never refers to Brandon as the legitimate King or Lord of Winterfell again.”

“What will you do if I refuse to obey?” She asked with defiance.

“The blacksmith dies and the same goes for you trying to escape the castle.” His voice didn’t even shake to threat her so lowly. Any honor he might have left had been burned by the passion of the previous night. “You will acknowledge me as King.”

“Or maybe I should claim my own blood rights and take my brother’s crown.” Arya growled at him savagely, but the only thing she got from him was a dark smirk.

“You will have your crown soon enough.” Jon declared. “In fact, I should drag you to the godswood right now and be done with this pointless argument between us.”

“I won’t marry you. Not now nor ever.” She replied out of sheer stubbornness. Jon took the dagger from her hand gently and Arya didn’t offer any kind of resistance.

“You will and you already know it.” Jon insisted, but this time with a condescending tone. Arya was young and sometimes she needed to be reminded of how their world worked. “You can try to hold on to a misguided sense of honor or even familial loyalty but we both know that it won’t last. It will be either for the love we share or to protect a child I may get in you in the meantime.”

“What is holding you back then?” Arya questioned without being intimidated by his proximity or that fact that she no longer had a weapon. “Why don’t you drag me to the godswood as you said? Prove to the world that you are no better than Bolton.”

“My pride demands your acceptance.” Jon’s voice got suddenly darker. “You are the Lady of Winterfell from now on. Once you realize that there was never a different option for us...” In an abrupt movement Jon’s lips fell on hers; hard, avid, demanding.

In the darkness of the room Jon conducted her blindly until he had Arya seating on her study table that was probably the only piece of furniture she didn’t manage to destroy. His hands tried to find their way under the layers of her wool dress, but before he could touch her as he wanted and remember Arya of how sweet it could be for them to be together, Arya pushed him away and clearly rejected his advances.

“No!” She said once she managed to escape his kiss as she kept trying to push him away. “Stop it!”

And so he did.

There was a difference between playing with her feelings for him so Arya could let her own desires run free, and forcing her to the point of breaking just to prove a point. Jon wanted her. Not only the pleasure she could give, but mostly the love, acceptance and complicity that always existed between them.

Jon stopped trying to bed her again, but didn’t let go of her completely. His ungloved hand caressed her face gently and even in the dark he could see her eyes filled with fear. That wasn’t the kind of feelings he hope to inspire.

“I don’t...” Arya tried to say as she recovered her breath. “Not today. I still feel sore.”

He couldn’t argue against that and Arya should have some time to adjust to their new dynamics. Jon gave a step back and offered her his hand to help Arya to get up.

Arya was embarrassed and still distrustful of him. He deserved her suspicion since he was behaving like a simple minded brute and she deserved better than that.

“It was a long day.” She was the one to break the silence. “I’m not in the mood and you certainly couldn’t expect anything different after what you did.”

“As I said, my pride demands your acceptance.” Jon insisted as he tried to deal with the discomfort caused by lust. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Arya.”

“Like what?” Her voice was now filled with sarcasm. “As if you were keeping me as your hostage? Or as if you could bed me whenever you like, as if I were your whore?”

“It doesn’t have to be a fight for dominance.” He said while ignoring the accusations. “We both have a lot to gain from this union. Soon you will understand.”

“I doubt it. Why Jon? Why things have to be like this?” Her voice was broken and desolated. “You might have the blood, but you are not a Targaryen. Not truly.”

“Maybe I am. It just took my a while to realize that this isn’t something I can escape. There is no other woman for me and you are a true born Stark. Once you accept that pretending to be siblings is no longer enough for us, and take your rightful place by my side, everything will be better.”

“Will you bring Bran back to Winterfell if I agree?” Arya summoned all of her courage and determination to ask that question. He was tempted to say what she wanted to hear, but that would still be a dangerous move. His rule needed stability and reliable foundations. Bringing Brandon back would work against his best interests.

“In due time.” Jon said in a sober tone. “I’m just taking precautions before he can come back.”

“What sort of precautions?” Arya asked.

“Brandon won’t be much of a threat once I have an heir.” His tone was even and yet final. That should be enough for her to understand his conditions for that bargain. Arya was suddenly silent and her eyes avoided his. “Especially one coming directly from Ned Stark’s lineage. If we are lucky, you might be with child already and all this argument will soon be forgotten.”

“Is there any chance of you taking my feelings into consideration?” Arya finally questioned with defiance. He would never love a woman that submissively bent to his will every time, but Arya had the will and the stubbornness of a monarch and in many ways she kept reminding him that it would be her lineage to rule the North, not his. “I won’t be your breeding mare or the pawn in your game of power.”

“Look around you, my love.” Jon looked at her eyes as his voice sounded cold and uncaring. “We are the last wolves standing. It’s just you and me to hold this kingdom together and defend this land. I admire your loyalty and love for Brandon, but you know that he is not a safe choice. You and I...We are the safe choice.”

“I am the only wolf standing here.” Those words came out of her mouth as sharp as blades. Every one of those words have left a bleeding wound in both of them. “You won’t make a dragon out of me.”

“I already did, little sister.” He replied, only this time he wanted her to feel the same kind of pain and shame that her remind of his heritage inflicted on him. “Every time I fucked you...At every moan I dragged out of your throat...That was the sound of your transformation. You can curse me. You can pretend it never happened, but...Every night when you are alone in bed, you will remember how it felt to have me inside you. Take a lover or a dozen, it won’t change the fact that I will always be your first and I will make sure that I will also be your last.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

When he finally left Arya fell to the floor with all of her energies drained. The slamming door was a final statement of what she had become. A prisoner in her own house. A hostage. An insurance against any thoughts of rebellion.

Who was that man that worn a face that was so dear to her heart? She refused to believe him to be the same Jon Snow from her childhood and days of summer.

Maybe it was the Targaryen blood finally speaking in him, or it was the dark magic from Asshai she heard so much of since she arrived at Winterfell. Death was a mysterious thing. She should know that more than anyone else. Arya just never realized that she would live enough to see the day that she would fear – and maybe even hate – Jon.

It was naive of her to have so much blood in her hands and expected the world around her to go on unmolested and pure. In a way it felt like a price she would have to pay for her crimes. To have Jon turn into a vile sort of monster was just the way the God of Many Faces found to punish her.

Arya laid on the cold floor, trying to hold herself together as she cried over her last bit of innocence that had been so viciously taken away from her. Since her return to Westeros, Arya had never felt so utterly alone.

Jon would be back soon or later; even colder and less inclined to wait for her acceptance. It was a matter of time until he decided that he had enough of her second thoughts, or got a child in her so his claim would be secure. Her love for him was her weakness. A flaw that ultimately made her a traitor to her own blood and family.

Her father, mother and Robb had died for it. To protect them, Winterfell and the North from the Lannister and from submission, just to be betrayed by those who had been raised among them. Jon was bold enough to take the crown and place it on his head, but at the moment she thought she could buy Jon’s lenience for Bran, Arya had actually let him seduce her with promises of freedom and a level of power she never thought she would have.

What would happen if Bran ruled as King in the North? Soon or later he would settle a marriage for her so he could buy stability and alliances. Why should Bran decide what would be of her life, when she was older and as capable as he was?

Deep down she knew Jon to be the safest option. Not only for the North, but for her as well. Jon would never bargain with her life, especially not if it meant to send her away again. It just never occurred to her that he would be capable of making Winterfell her cage and claim her for himself like only a Targaryen would do.

Of course she was aware of the little flirtatious undertone to their usual conversations. It never failed to make Arya feel especial and powerful. It was her own statement of influence and Arya enjoyed being able to exercise some influence over the man who dared to call himself King in the North. The only thing Arya hadn’t anticipated was the consequences of it. She never thought either of them would dare to cross the line.

Once more she thought about the courtesans in their pleasure barges crossing the canals. She thought about the Black Pearl the most. The layers of lace, silk and satin of her skirts, the smoothness of her light brown skin.

“ _You are not the most refined of creatures.”_ Bellegere had said to her during Arya’s brief time as her servant. _“There is something about your eyes though. A fire, a blizzard. I’m not sure which one, but it should compensate for the lack of talent for singing. You are cleverer than most girls I had in this house. I could make a courtesan out of you, child. Make you so fine and rare that only a king would be able to buy your maiden’s blood.”_

At the time Arya nearly laughed at her, as if such a thing was possible. A part of her wished for the kind of attention and adoration those women had. To be beautiful and lovely for once; not the plain child with a long face and hands of a blacksmith. That was the sort of privilege that had never been given to her.

It had been part of her mission to stay with Bellegere. Arya learned the courtesan’s dances and the ways of moving around a crowded room as if she was floating. She had worn their exquisite dresses and scents. Men had offered offered the Black Pearl a reasonable amount of gold for Arya, but Bellegere declined the offers until Arya’s moon blood came for the first time.

That night Bellegere sat by her side in bad and held her face with a firm grip. Arya had been afraid of being cast out of the house without having completed her mission and go back to the Kindly Man with failure on her hands. Instead of Bellegere throwing her out, the Black Pearl had asked the other servants for even finer gowns and small clothes. She painted Arya’s face with her multitude of powders and pigments, before having her standing naked for evaluation.

“ _Lovely.”_ She had declared. _“But uneducated in the most secret arts.”_ The Black Pearl sat on a comfortable chair right in front her feather bed while looking at Arya standing in front of her, wearing nothing but her small clothes. _“The offers are getting high. Lay down, girl. I have much to teach you before your great night.”_

That night Bellegere made her drink wine like a courtesan and sit languidly while listening to the finest musicians. Arya learned how to undress herself for the pleasure of her companion, how to seat in bed placidly and wait for her lover.

“ _You will keep your gaze low and when your lover approaches the bed you will loop up to his face slowly.”_ The Black Pearl instructed. _“We offer the illusion and the pleasure. Everything you do, you do slowly so he will think the night to be infinite. Time is a gift for men, but it is a blessing for us. Give us the chance to enjoy the moment as well.”_ Bellegere gently pushed Arya to bed. The older women stood on top of her. So close that Arya could smell her breath. _“Now show me how you should kiss a lover.”_

For a moment Arya didn’t know what to do, but the rush of excitement took her all of a sudden and she kissed Bellegere as if she was thirsty and the courtesan was the purest fountain of water.

“ _Slowly!”_ The Black Pearl said once the kiss was broken. _“You kiss like a peasant boy in a whore house for the first time!”_

It took Arya an hour to reach Bellegere’s approval with the kisses and when she did, in a fraction of a second, the Black Pearl’s fingers suddenly entered Arya’s cunt without care. She gasped for air and her eyes were teary and wide.

“ _This is exactly the face you won’t do, no matter how unpleasant it might be.”_ The older woman said. _“If you are going to keep this mouth open like a dying fish, at least fake a soft moan so he will think you are enjoying it.”_ Bellegere said as she kept moving her fingers, only this time with the expertise of a musician playing the lute. _“You will always pretend to like their touch, even if you don’t. Every lover will always be your finest. This is the lie we sell.”_ Bellegere’s free hand grabbed Arya’s face. _“Look at me. Keep your eyes open when your love looks to your face. Make love with your eyes of ice and you’ll bring any man to his knees.”_ Arya obeyed. She tried to look at the Black Pearl’s lovely face and a glimpse of her soul behind her eyes. Bellegered responded to Arya’s icy gaze with a kiss made of fire.

“ _Once you have a name of your own, you will decide who you take to your bed and who you don’t. When pleasure and power walk hand in hand for you, then you’ll know that you are a true courtesan.”_ Bellegere rewarded her with a moment of intense bliss and Arya experienced the mysteries of womanhood for the first time through the hands of the most famous courtesan of Braavos.

Arya learned how to please with her mouth and hands. Bellegere wouldn’t listen to her protests or any excuses for a bad performance. The night lasted forever for Arya, but not in the way the Black Pearl had mentioned previously. If the courtesan was pleased with her pupil, she would reward Arya with the same kind of pleasure.

“ _You were not made for the One of Many Faces.”_ Bellegere said as she caressed Arya’s face. _“You should stay here. It is a kinder life and you can be a queen of your own court. If you stayed, I could keep you for myself. I grew fond of you, little one.”_

Behind the lessons and the empty offers, the Black Pearl knew the truth even back then. In a way Arya wondered if she had the ability to see the future in one’s eyes.

Arya left Braavos a couple of nights later. It reached her ears that a certain Black Bastard had been murdered at the Wall for breaking his vows. It had been Jon to bring her back to her true self, her true life. She just never expected him to be her first lover.

Arya couldn’t remember any of Bellegere’s lessons at that moment. She never thought of Jon as a lover until that night. She had gone to the Lord’s Chambers looking for her half brother. The one person she loved the most in the world, hoping to convince him with nostalgia and the purest memories of their past, but Jon wanted none of it. He wanted the woman with eyes of ice.

Maybe if she had put the Black Pearl’s lessons to practice, Jon wouldn’t feel so entitle to her body and she might still have the upper hand in the game. Maybe enough to make him give up of getting rid of Bran and Gendry.

She didn’t know how long she remained laid on the floor and feeling her world crumbling down for the last time, but once Arya found her last bit of strength to raise she was determinate to not let him have the last word in that.

She looked at her reflex in the copper mirror. _A fire. A blizzard._ She had both in her. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell and neither her nor the world would ever forget that. Blood of the First Men, wolf blood...Jon had to be reminded that she was no ordinary woman to be ordered around as if he had some authority over her.

Black Pearl had given her one last lesson before Arya left the courtesan’s house. One that proved to be handy in times that she would have to make a statement of her own will.

Arya found the little vial hidden among her furs and clothes. Too small to be of interest to anyone and discreet enough for her to carry around.

She asked for wine before Jon dared to enter her room. She poured herself a cup, along with a bit of the little powder inside the vial.

“ _You must have this with you all the time.”_ The Black Pearl had said when they were both still in bed as she passed the vial to Arya’s hands. _“You will either give this world the gift of death or the gift of life, but never both. The gods made us women for the second. Every lover will try to leave behind a bit of him inside you, but it’s for you to decide when you’ll allow the seeds to take root. It may be that you’ll find yourself a king, or even a peasant boy to take your heart and make you crave for a different sort of life. Then you can forget this gift, but until it happens...You will be no one’s wife, no one’s mother. You will be yours and yours alone.”_

Arya looked at the cup in her hands before drinking from it. It felt bitter like betrayal and shame, but that would never be Jon’s choice to make.

She would have Bran back in Winterfell. Either that or she would embrace what the Black Pearl envisioned for her future. A Queen of her own court.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't even ask me how dark it can gets. I already said I'm going to hell for writing this.  
> I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

His mood was sour, but Jon acknowledged that all the sudden changes might have been too much for Arya to digest. He expected a certain level of resistance and doubts about the new aspects of their feelings, but not quite like the one she displayed once Brandon was gone.

Maybe he had been over confident about her love for him. Maybe Arya hadn’t realized that it was no longer possible for them to pretend to be siblings.

Those days were spent in contemplative silence. Jon was well aware that Arya was avoiding his presence as much as she could, although her duties to the household made it somewhat difficult. He wasn’t upset about her distance. He was upset with himself and how poorly he had managed things between them so far.

Arya spent her days moving from one activity from another; keeping the household functioning and getting to the end of the day exhausted. It was good for her to have a routine and Jon made no objections when she asked to the keys of the castle.

Every night she would lock the door of her room. That was a clear sign for him to leave her be and Jon agreed that maybe it was for the best to give her space and time. She would come back eventually and they would make amends.

Those days had also been of frustration, especially once the servant girl that took care of Arya’s clothes told him that her mistress’ moon blood came one day after Brandon’s departure. Arya wasn’t with child and that was an inconvenient delay to his plans.

It wasn’t the end of the world, but Jon admitted it would have made his life way easier if Arya had conceived that night. She would finally quit her stubborn attitude and agree with the marriage. He would have her crowned as his Queen and Bran would no longer be a threat, only an inconvenient weight to their consciences.

It was with bitterness that Jon accepted the fact that Brandon’s exile wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t dared to judge Jon’s feelings for Arya. He didn’t need the last Stark boy criticizing that relationship. What good would it bring? It would only serve to add to Arya’s feelings of guilt and the estrangement between the King in The North and his cousin. That was the kind of heartache Jon would rather avoid.

Whatever Arya might think about her new role in the castle, she wouldn’t share with him. They exchanged few words only during meals and if Arya had any free time she would go to the godswood.

That wasn’t how he had hoped to start a life with her and maybe it would have to ask for her forgiveness. Jon tried to think about a gift; a token of his affection or just something to smooth things between them so they would get to talk to each other again.

Winter made it difficult to travel and supplies were often scarce. Sometimes it would take months for a merchant to get to the North, but Jon had made an especial effort to learn the trades’ rhythm. When the ship from Essos arrived at White Harbor, Jon had Lord Manderly send him some especial items.

Arya used to tell him how Braavos smelled rotten, but the scents and perfumes used by the noble ladies and courtesans were delicious and could get a man drunk with it’s sweetness. He bought her a box with scented oils, different kinds of perfumes and incense. He also bought her pieces of damask, heavy samites, velvet and lace.

In another time he would give her blades, but lately he had start to fear that Arya might consider using them against him, so Jon decided for different sort of gifts.

“These items rose suspicion.” Lord Manderly’s son said once he arrived at Winterfell to have word with Jon and deliver the goods. “The merchant asked if the King in the North had a courtesan. The fabrics are usual requests from noble ladies, but the scents...Well, that is unusual. They are meant for the pleasure barges and the beds covered in petals.”

Jon didn’t bother to give the man explanations. Arya appreciated those things and he wanted her to have only the good memories from Essos. If those items were also meant for the moments of intimacy, than he would be more than pleased to have Arya using them for his appreciation.

Once he had the box in hand, Jon started to look after her. He felt like a green boy, eager to please his sweetheart. Only Arya could make him feel so young, anxious and hopeful.

He found Arya in the godswood, seating by the heart tree and silent contemplation. Her hair was lose and the snowflakes formed a delicate veil covering her head. She was dressed all in dark gray wool, wrapped in a thick cloak with shadow cat fur. _Lonely, lovely, lethal._

The sound of his boots walking on fresh snow made her alert. Arya opened her eyes and looked at him as if she expected for an attack, although she made no defensive moves.

“I was looking for you.” Jon said in a calm and hopeful tone.

“Did Bran write me a letter?” She asked with her voice full of sadness and resentment. Jon took a deep breath as he prepared his spirit to yet another argument.

“Not yet. His arrival at the Dreadfort was reported and he is in good health. Maybe you should write him in a couple of days.” Jon suggested before he could approach her.

“I thought you wouldn’t accept the idea. Only the gods know the sort of things we could conspire against you.” Arya provoked with bitterness.

“I did not come here looking for another quarrel.” Jon declared in an apologetic tone. “I was hoping to talk to you in private. Beg you to forgive my callous behavior. I said terrible things to you and I didn’t intend to hurt you. I was angry at Brandon for insulting us and at your unwillingness to accept that things have changed.”

“Indeed. Things have changed.” Arya answered miserably. “I don’t know you anymore. I don’t want to know.”

“You have all the reasons to be angry at me.” Jon accepted. “I made a mess out of this. I should have been more patient. I should have given you time so we could start our new life on pleasant terms and not with pointless arguments.”

“This life only exists inside your head.” Arya lowered her head to avoid his eyes.

“Is that so?” He insisted before seating by her side. “I wish you could see things from my perspective right now.”

“And what is it that you see?” She asked while rubbing her hands against each other to get them warm.

“It have always been just us, Arya.” His voice was soft and loving. “The outcasts, the unloved. You know me better than anyone and you always accepted me. Bastard or not, Targaryen or not; this won’t change. I’ll always be your home and you will always be my heart. There is blood in our hands; guilt, regret and shame beyond measure. No matter what you’ve done to survive, my love for you has no conditions and no limits.”

Her eyes were suddenly full of tears, but Arya was too stubborn to show any sort of weakness in front of him. Jon kissed her cheek with tenderness. He silently wished for that moment to last forever.

“I have this brought from Braavos.” He said before handling her the exquisite wooden box adorned with mother of pearls. “You spoke of the perfumes so many times that I wanted you to have them.”

“This is a very expensive gift.” Arya said as she opened the box and looked at the vials carefully. “Way too expensive for me to accept.”

“Where is the fun in being King if I can’t dote on my beloved every once in a while?” He asked with an a youthful humor. “I do not expect you to suddenly change your mind about my proposal because of this, but I’ll be glad if we can at least talk to each other as we used to.”

Arya didn’t give him a straight answer for a while. They were both suddenly distracted by Ghost and Nymeria approaching their masters. If Jon and Arya weren’t in their best moment, at least the wolves seemed to get along just fine.

“She is different around him.” Arya pointed as she looked at the wolves sniffing around to find a comfortable place to lay and rest. “Not half as wild as she usually is.”

“Nymeria recognizes a potential mate in him.” Jon pointed with satisfaction. “Maybe they are at early stages of courtship. If only things could be this easy for humans as well. Just follow our instincts; what nature designed us to do.”

“We are not animals, regardless to how some of us have been carrying themselves.” Arya answered before she rose from the floor with her box in hand. “Thank you for the gift. It was a lovely surprise.”

Arya didn’t wait for him to escort her back home. She walked on her own through the fresh snow, still wrapped up in her cloak and looking like something he might have dreamed of, or a glimpse of a paradise from his brief death. A paradise long lost.

 

Xxxxxxxxxx

 

At times it was almost impossible for her to not feel confused. Arya couldn’t forgive him for usurping Bran and sending him away. She couldn’t forgive Jon for imposing his will and making her a hostage in her own house, or for so bluntly saying that she belonged to him.

She thought there was nothing left to be broken inside her, but she was wrong. Jon broke her heart like no one else could. He striped her of her loyalty and made a traitor out of her. The question that remained was how long she would endure that game of mouse and cat? How long she would be able to dance around him and avoid his insistent gaze and blunt lust?

If she gave in, what would be of Bran? Would Jon still consider it advantageous to keep Bran alive, or would he decide that one Stark was all what he needed?

Going to the godswood daily was her way to seek atonement. She would seat under the heart tree every day and stay in silence. It was in those quiet moments that Arya could feel her father near. His kiss on her forehead and his hand petting her hair. She missed him, but Arya also wondered what her father would say if he could see her at that moment.

Every time the memories of that night came back to her mind, Arya tasted the bitter shame. She had been so naive to not see the warnings Jon had given her all along. Stupid for being so trustful and downright obscene for feeling any sort of pleasure.

Arya tried to convince herself that it had been her fault somehow. She might have wanted that, just like she had always craved for Jon’s attentions. She wanted to taste that little bit of power and see him bending to her will as he so often did. To feel that she was the leading wolf of that pack for a change.

The days that followed Bran’s departure were almost like trying to forget that night ever existed. She tried to keep herself busy while running the household as her mother once did. When night came and Arya was exhausted, she laid on her bed still feeling restless. Every time she closed her eyes, Arya felt his hands on her body and she would wake up with her body covered in sweat, even if she kept her door locked.

At least Jon didn’t try to bend her to his will again. He gave her the keys of the castle and that was like telling her that if she didn’t want to be in the same place as he, Arya could simply close the door to keep him away. It was a bit of autonomy and also a way to show any visitors, lords, tenants and servants that she was respected and Jon treated her accordingly to her tittle. She was the Lady of Winterfell; whatever that meant.

Jon bought her gifts as well. Expensive ones. The sort of things a rich man would send to a lover he thought to be untouchable. Arya had seen plenty of those gifts being delivered at Bellegere’s gates. The tapestries, the exquisite fabrics, the gold and pearls, the perfumes…

The scents were the things Arya liked the most about those gifts and Bellegere had so many of them that she didn’t even care if a flask or another went missing. After years smelling like a rat from Flee Bottom, Arya learned to appreciate the fine and delicate smells and she loved it when she could have a couple of drops of perfume added to her bath water.

Jon had bought her a complete set, but she doubted that he knew the use of all those little potions. There was those meant to repeal an unwanted guest. The incense to numb the senses and make one dizzy. The perfume Bellegere wore to impress a particularly difficult client and the oils for the foreplay in the bed chambers.

Some made her skin get hot, others gave a chilling sensation, others numbed the skin completely. Either way, they could make all of her senses alert and the Black Pearl used to say that they never fail to help a woman to find her way to pleasure. Their smells were so strong that would make her feel drunk.

Arya was no courtesan. She would never be one, despite of Bellegere’s best efforts. Those flasks would stay on her vanity table. Each one a memory of what her life might have looked like if her choices had been different.

“ _When power and pleasure walk hand in hand for you, then you will know that you are a true courtesan.”_ Those words kept playing inside her head, making Arya tempted and curious. Nothing good would ever come from these impulses.

It had been more then a month since Bran left. Arya had written a couple of letters, but received no answer from her brother. The maester at least received frequent reports about Bran’s behavior and general health, especially after Jon reached an agreement with Reed. Bran was to be married and Arya wouldn’t be there to see it happening.

The lack of purpose to her life was slowly eating her from inside out. That night in particular she felt restless, but she wasn’t the only one.

The moon was full and Arya could listen to Nymeria singing in the woods. It was late and her whole body protested for rest. Arya went to her bed and laid there for a while, just looking at the ceiling and wondering how it felt to howl to the moon and the stars.

She closed her eyes and her conscience slipped away. Suddenly she could smell the pine needles from the woods, a distant trace of smoke coming from the castle...She could feel the snow crashing under her weight as she ran like a free spirit.

The snow in the woods was tainted with blood. There was a fight there, not long ago. The smell was still strong, but her little cousins were nowhere to be seen.

Her white brother came out of the woods. Silent and dangerous as ever. They got along pretty well most of the time. She liked to have him near, to have him giving her ear a nip and place love bites all over her neck.

It had been him to put all the small cousins to run since her smell started to change. The season had come and gone for her before, but she never accepted a mate. There was no one big enough nor strong enough to try to mount her; not like the silent one was.

The white wolf circled her. His red eyes glowing in the night. She lowered her head a bit so he could smell her properly. His mouth was watering and the saliva on her fur was just a way to tell the others that she had been claimed.

Arya felt the weight of the mighty beast on top of her and for a moment she panicked, while the wolf part wanted nothing but to mate. Nymeria bared her teeth as Arya protested. Two different beings in one body was a complicated arrangement, especially in a moment ruled by instinct.

She had tasted human blood through Nymeria. She had killed and haunted both men and smaller animals. At times they were almost one, both howling to the moon and running freely, but not that night.

Arya woke up in a state of confusion. Half human and half wolf, she felt dizzy and all of her senses were overwhelmed. If she closed her eyes, part of her could still feel through Nymeria’s body and Arya couldn’t tell if the howls she heard were from the she-wolf mating or Arya’s own voice raising in frenzy and frustration.

Her body felt feverish and she couldn’t go back to sleep or even stay in that room. Arya rose from her bed and walked through the hallways without direction. _I’m going mad._ The last bit of reason inside her mind kept saying.

Arya’s feet carried her straight to the only place she had been avoiding inside the castle. The door was open as if waiting for her pay a visit.

The fireplace was lit and Arya could smell Jon’s arousal from a distance. That place smelled of need and lust.

Jon was laid on his bed. His head tilted back while his hand held his throbbing cock and stroked it vigorously. His hand stopped one he noticed her smell inside the room.

Neither of them was in complete control of their minds and bodies at the moment. Wolves and masters were partially connected and the lines that divided the human from the beast were blurred. Jon’s eyes looked at her with hunger and in that moment Arya couldn’t think of a reason to turn around and go back to the safety of her room.

Arya removed her nightgown in silence as she walked towards his bed in some sort of trance.That was all the encouragement he needed to come closer. Arya closed her eyes as he kissed her neck and his hands cupped her breasts. His mouth was as demanding and imperative as ever. She didn’t care. She just needed him to make that state of semi-humanity to go away so she could get full control over her body again.

Jon carried her to bed and made her lay on her belly for a while. He climbed back to bed and stood behind her. Arya kept her face partially hidden on a pillow as she felt Jon kissing and licking her back. His hand grabbed her ass before giving it a smack. A small cry of surprise escaped her mouth.

He got her supported of her knees and forearms. Jon kissed her ass as he teased her cunt with his fingers. That wasn’t enough. She needed something else.

Jon guided his cock into her wet folds. Arya nearly howled as he started to move, mounting her like Ghost did to Nymeria.

Her mind was suddenly quiet. Blissfully so. There was only the instinct, the need, the primal urge she couldn’t understand. Her vision flickered. Sometimes she would open her eyes and see the starry sky and the frozen woods; and sometimes it was the fireplace made of gray granite with the wolf head carved on it.

Arya let her mind and body completely free so she would enjoy the moment. Neither wolf nor woman, she was lost somewhere in between as her mate joined her in that ancient ritual. When pleasure came to her, it felt like the mighty ocean washing over her body. Jon started to move faster, making that blissful moment last as she growled and howled just like the she-wolf in heat.

Jon kept her hips in place once he pushed inside her for the last time. Arya felt the warm and sticky fluid filling her as Jon’s cock softened.

It was when she no longer could feel the bridge between her and Nymeria. It was just Arya. The same treacherous creature that laid in bed with the man that had usurped Brandon. No better than the animal in the woods.

The guilt and the shame came back all of a sudden, only this time if had been worst. There was no doubt about her reasons to go to his room. She walked it looking for her mate. She had him fucking her on her parents former bed. Arya looked at the wolf carved on the fireplace and she felt dirty and unworthy of her name.

Arya laid quietly at the left side of the bed with her back turned at him. Jon didn’t say a word for a while and Arya thought he had fell asleep. She allowed her tears to fall freely and she cried quietly for a couple of minutes, until she felt his arm around her and pulling her body close to his.

“Why are you crying this time?” He asked with his voice sleepy and soft. “Did I hurt you?”

She was likely to feel sore in the morning, but while they were consumed by their instincts she had felt nothing but delight.

“No.” She answered simply. Arya didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t even want to look at him and face the fact that she was giving in.

“It’s more difficult to control the wolf dreams since I came back.” Jon said it as an attempt to offer her some comfort. “I’m not trained to deal with it and depending on my mood, I don’t even want to control it.”

“You have wolf dreams too?” She asked before turning in bed to look at him. Jon simply nod in agreement. “Nothing like this have happened before. It usually just the moon and the stars as she runs in the woods somewhere, commanding her pack.”

“This is something new for me as well.” Jon said as he caressed her face. “The wildlings would call it an abomination. Wargs are not supposed to mate while inside the mind of the animal.”

“Abomination is exactly the definition of it.” Her voice was bitter. “I’m disgusting.”

“You are not.” He said with condescending tone. “You couldn’t have known that the wolves could have such a level of influence over us.”

“There is a limit for the excuses I can come up with every time I enter this room and let you fuck me.” Her voice was filled with anger. “You stripped my brother of his rights. You sent him away and you have me exactly where you wanted. It is the second time you bed me on my parents’ bed. At times I’m glad that they didn’t live long enough to see me like this.”

“Oh, I hope your mother is watching it from the Seven Hells. The irony of this is just poetic and it feels like justice for every time she looked at my with despise.” Jon replied sourly. “Now look at me.” Arya summoned all of her strength to look at his eyes. “I won’t ask forgiveness for the things I did. When I was a child I had a dream that I kept to myself until my death. Being a ranger of the Night’s Watch was just an attempt of finding an alternative dream. Winterfell is what I ever wanted. Being the Lord Stark of Winterfell, rule this castle and the North, with a fine lady as my wife and several children. I am exactly were I wanted to be.” Jon’s voice was harsh and final. “How many times you wished you had all the things that always belonged to Sansa? I remember that you were upset for being paired with chubby Tommen, instead of Jeoffrey. What is it that you always wanted to have, but never dared to speak of it out loud?”

“I wanted to be good and beautiful.” She said as she rubbed her eyes to remove the insistent tears. “I just wanted mother and father to compliment me every once in a while. Feel that I was worthy of being loved and never once doubt if I my mother would agree to ransom me.”

“Then why you keep trying to honor the memory of those who made you feel unwanted and unloved?” Jon asked as he held her in his arms. “Look at you. I can’t think of anything more beautiful that your face. Have I ever gave you reason to think that I wouldn’t want you back home? Have I ever made you feel unloved? I don’t care about the dresses you wear, if your hair is combed or not, or even for the number of deaths you have on your list. I will always love every piece of you.”

“But it’s wrong.” She whispered stubbornly. “Even if I told you that I love you, a part of me will always think of you as my brother.”

“Than it is a very fortunate thing that these silly matters never bothered a Targaryen before.” He replied before kiss her cheek. “I can still call you little sister and bed you all the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a dark one and not getting light any time soon. I know some of you are conflicted with it and many don't feel comfortable reading it, so I think I should reinforce what the description says. You won't find anything healthy here.  
> We all love a good fluffy Jonrya and I intend to update some of my lighter works soon, so those who don't feel comfortable with this one will have something else to read. Meanwhile I think it's my responsibility to say that what is happening between Jon and Arya in this story is not what love looks like. This is an abusive relationship, even if they have a past in which they loved and cared for each other in a healthy way. If you think that what Jon is doing is because he loves her too much and just want to be with her...Check your references again.  
> Anyway, I hope you guys will keep reading it. If you don't feel comfortable with the theme, I understand and this is a very fair reason for you to drop the reading. For those who will read it to the end, I hope you enjoy this chapter and do not fear, Arya will show her darker colors soon.  
> Reviews are appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Arya looked carefully to the flask in her hand. She wondered for how long she would be able to avoid getting with child if things kept going like that.

Nymeria’s heat lasted for a week. Arya had managed to get some control over the warging, but every now and the their minds got entwined and Jon was always near to take the opportunity to satisfy his mate.

She thought things would get easier with time, but every night she would sleep feeling worst than the previous one. Jon’s smell wouldn’t get out of her skin no matter how many times she bathed. The ghost of his hands kept haunting her skin under all the layers of her clothes, while his eyes followed Arya’s every move.

Bran still hadn’t bothered to write to her since he left Winterfell. Arya wondered if he was still angry about what was going on between her and Jon, or if it was just Bran acknowledging that he wouldn’t be named King in The North.

Jon’s authority over the country grew by the hour as he haunted down and sentenced all of those involved in Bolton’s conspiracies. At every execution the crowd would roar “The King in The North”, even when Arya was sitting by his side in a place of honor and it had been her name to give both Bolton and Jon the power they craved.

No one ever thought about shouting “The Queen in The North” during those occasions, although she was treated as a queen by all the servants and banners. There was a strong young man with Stark blood on the Winter Throne and justice had returned to the land, so why would anyone bother to question the fact that Jon had taken the Stark princess for his mistress? As long as Jon kept ruling by the northern traditions and avoided remembering the lords of his Targaryen blood, he could fuck her every night without anyone suggesting to raise an army to favor Brandon.

It was a lost cause and every day Arya would wake up wondering why she was still swimming against the tide. Jon had won. He was king, he had Winterfell and he even had her without making much of an effort. Why was she still refusing to give him one last victory by accepting him for her husband?

Perhaps it was because accepting his hand was to accept that he was never her brother. It was like saying that all those happy memories were nothing but lies and the true Jon was that man capable of usurping Bran. That would be Arya’s final betrayal to her family.

Jon was certain that it would be just a matter of time for her to change her mind. That idea was also reflected on their subjects. Lord, tenants and servants treated them as if they were a married couple already, even if Jon’s true parentage was still something many didn’t believe.

She heard someone knocking at her door and immediately hid the flask inside her trunk. Jon entered the room carefully. It was too early in the day for him to come looking for her, but he looked more cautious than the usual.

“Is there something wrong?” Arya asked once she turned to look at him.

“I’m not sure how you’ll take this.” He declared in a sober voice. “Your cousin, Lord Robert Aryn, died a few days ago. The crow just arrived.”

“I didn’t know him.” Arya answered as a matter of fact although those news were indeed upsetting. Lord Aryn could have been a worthy ally to Bran’s cause. “I know he was still very young. It’s heartbreaking that it happens to someone who had a whole life ahead. At least he must be with his mother now.” That thought made her think of baby Rickon and also Robb. Both dead in the prime of youth.

“Indeed.” Jon agreed. “This brings a few questions now. I would like your help in this.” That was an unexpected request.

“What sort of questions?” Arya’s curiosity had been awaken.

“Harrold Hardyng is the new Lord Paramount of the Vale. We stand between Cersei, Daenerys and the Others. This war isn’t finished yet and I would like to get his support before our enemies have the chance.”

“I don’t know how I could help with this. I’ve never heard about this man before.” Arya explained without much enthusiasm.

“But you might have heard of Petyr Baelish.” Jon suggested. “What sort of man is he?”

“An old friend to my mother, I think. As far as I remember, he is Cersei’s man. I don’t think he would be inclined to change sides now that he received so many rewards from the Lannisters.” Arya concluded. Baelish wasn’t the sort of man she would trust, regardless to his connections with the Lannister. Even if he had stood by the Starks from the start, Arya had a bad feeling about him.

“His natural daughter is to marry Hardyng and maybe siding with the Lannister is no longer a safe bet.” Jon suggested before handling her the letter from the Vale. “He asks for a meeting.”

“Why would he bother to write to you?” That didn’t make much sense. There was something off about it.

“It’s not with me he wants to talk. It’s with you, Lady Stark.” Jon said with anoyence. “I never expected for the Vale to recognize my claim, but he is willing to discuss alliances with Catelyn’s daughter. It is in our best interests to have the Vale on our side.”

“You don’t have to tell me the obvious. I’m well aware of how a war works.” Arya snapped back. Sometimes Jon simply forgot that she had seen hell with her own eyes and survived it. “I just don’t know what he would gain from it or why Hardyng would think this to be a good idea.”

“Maybe Baelish wants to keep his influence in the Vale and Hardyn is just a puppet. Getting our support could keep Baelish’s position safe. I don’t know what he wants. We will have to wait and see.” Jon said it as a matter of fact. “Maybe we can have him here to witness our wedding.”

“I won’t marry you.” Arya answered stubbornly. Jon smirked at her indulgently.

“There’s only so much you can test my patience. I never thought you would enjoy it so much being my mistress, but I don’t want to give Baelish the impression that I’m using you just for my own pleasure.” Jon replied cruelly.

“What you want is for him to recognize you as King. Since he didn’t do it, Bran might still be his option. That’s why you need me.” The accusation came out of her mouth as cutting as a sharp blade.

“You like to think this is the only reason why I would do all these dirty things to you, don’t you?” Jon’s voice was soft and yet there was a hint of cruelty in his words. “The political part happens to be very convenient, but I would do everything I did even if you were a no one.”

“Any news from Bran?” Arya ignored his cruelty and asked as she always did.

“Healthy, managing his new state just fine and excited about the wedding.” The answer was always the same. “You should accept that he doesn’t want to talk to you, little sister.”

“Either that or you won’t let me read his letters. I’m not stupid as you think.” Her patience was at short and Arya was tired of his games.

“Never thought you were.” Jon said with a soft and condescending smile. “I’m not lying. He is doing very well and the matter of Bran’s return to Winterfell is in your hands. You already know the terms.”

“Can I at least attend to his wedding to Meera?” Arya questioned.

“It’s a long journey through dangerous roads during winter. I’m not risking your safety and I need you here to help me with the guests.” Jon replied as he approached her. His hand reached for her face and caressed it gently. “I could be more flexible, if you just stop fighting me in this. I know you miss Bran. I miss him too, but as long as he represents a threat I can’t afford having him near. If you had me for your husband though...That would send a clear message and make things safer for everyone involved. Just say yes, and I’ll have Bran and Meera here for our wedding.”

Arya didn’t answer him. She remained silent and avoiding his eyes. Jon’s forced her to look at his face and Arya wondered if he would dare to strike her just to get what he wanted. Jon rested his forehead against hers as his arms embraced her like ropes.

“It’s just us. It have always been like this.” He said with a nostalgic voice. “I admire your strength and loyalty, but eventually you will see that this is a mistake. I don’t want to hear people calling you by unworthy names. I want you to be safe, respected...”

“I’ll help you with Littlefinger, but this is all.” She insisted as she tried to push him away. “Everything else is just a delusion from your head.”

“Fine.” Jon finally gave up. “Will you come to my chambers tonight?”

“I...I don’t feel like it.” Arya said with embarrassment. She hated it when he was blunt about those things. “It’s that time of the month. I feel indisposed.”

“Do you want me to call the maester for you?” His voice this time was carrying and indulging. Jon never tried to bed her when she had her moon blood flowing. Arya doubted it was because of some sort of aversion to blood. Jon simply accepted that during those days she should have a time to rest.

“No need. I had the servants bringing me some tea for the pain.” She said. “If you don’t mind, I would like to be alone.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

From the top of the castle’s walls he saw the banners announcing the arrival of Petyr Baelish’s party. Jon didn’t like the idea of receiving that man, but he still needed men, weapons and resources to fight the enemies to the North and the enemies to the South. The Vale could be a decisive factor in the war, but Petyr Baelish’s interference made him feel uneasy.

Maybe it was the fact that Baelish refused to recognize him as King in The North. Being Lord Baelish a friend to late Lady Stark, it was at leas intriguing that he chose to acknowledge Arya’s authority over the North and not Brandon’s. That was something Jon could accept. Being addressed as the consort to the Queen was better than be labeled as a usurper. _Except that I’m not her husband yet._

That was enough to bring a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite of all the nights spent in bed together; the power he granted her over the household; the convenience of the arrangement and mostly the love they shared, Arya refused to accept his hand.

Arya still held to the idea that Bran was the rightful king and lord to Winterfell. It was a misguided loyalty, Jon knew. Still it made it no less difficult for him to accept that Arya wasn’t on his side in that dispute. At least not yet.

If only she was with child...Things would be much easier for them and Arya would get back to her senses and realize that having him for her husband would be vital for the security of any children they might have. Months have passed though and Arya’s blood kept coming regularly.

That was frustrating, but not abnormal. He only wished that a child would come faster. Jon had considered having a maester examining her just to make sure everything was fine with her health or maybe give them something that might help Arya getting with child as soon as possible. Jon refused to impose that to her. He didn’t want Arya to feel bad or guilty about that.

Those were problems he would save for another time. Once the horses approached Winterfell’s gates, Jon left the wall to received them as was proper for a lord or a king to do, especially when he was in need of military aid.

Arya was already there once he arrived at the Great Hall. To his surprise she had been seating at the Lord’s Seat, dressed in a heavy silver and black damask gown and wrapped in white fur. On her head the bronze and iron circled stood as a symbol of royalty. Regardless to the dispute between Jon and Brandon, Arya’s status as a princess remained, until she agreed to become Jon’s queen.

The vision was stunning and also unsettling. Maybe Brandon’s supporters could see in her as an alternative, if they could get Jon out of the picture. She would certainly be a magnificent queen in her own right, but the North wasn’t ready to be ruled by a woman, especially not one that was still so young.

“You look stunning, my dear.” He said gallantly, making Arya look at him from her high seat. A true queen. “I’m sure our guests will be impressed.”

“I’m sure they will believe that you treat me like a queen, instead of the hostage that I am.” Arya replied sharply. “This dress makes me think of something Cersei might have used.”

“Suitable to a queen and definitely something worthy of dressing my beloved. You were meant to be queen and that’s how I envision your future. You were never a hostage. How could you be one in your own home?” Jon questioned as he walked toward her to take his seat by her side.

“I do hate it when you speak to me as if I were an ignorant child and try to pretend that this farce is anything but a lie.” She looked straight at the entrance of the hall to avoid Jon’s eyes.

“One day you’ll see that your stubbornness is the only think that makes this a farce. My wish is to fulfill every promise I’ve made to you.” Jon said as he sat by her side. “One word and Bran will be back home and all of this becomes a reality. You just have to say yes.”

“You ask me to betray my own brother. You ask me to betray my own blood.” Arya answered bitterly. At that a dark grin crossed his face.

“I am your brother too, am I not? Isn’t it your excuse to turn down my marriage proposals? We still share the same blood, little sister. The difference between me and Bran is that I love you more and I think you should rule by my side and not be traded in exchange for alliances.”

A stubborn tear crossed her face as Arya clenched her teeth. She dried her eyes before the doors were open to give passage to Petyr Baelish. That petty argument was something they would discuss later in the privacy of the Lord’s Chamber. Getting the Vale on their side was more important at that moment.

Jon looked at the man that entered the room followed by a young woman whose face was covered by a heavy hood. Baelish could only be described as a man of vanity by the way he was dressed and his face was free from facial hair, except for a well kept goatee. His smile was polite and diplomatic as he bowed in front of Arya.

“Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Baelish.” Arya said politely.

“It is my pleasure to finally meet Catelyn’s daughter. Your mother was a dear friend to me, my lady.” Baelish said pleasantly. “I like to believe that she would rejoice with this meeting, especially after all the tragedy your family has endured.”

“I like to think so.” Arya agreed. “May I introduce you to my dear cousin?” Arya’s right hand pointed at Jon’s direction. “Jon, the First of His Name, King in the North, Protector of the Realm and Lord of Winterfell.”

“I confess that I’m a bit confused by all the news I received. Some say Brandon Stark is King in the North, others say a young man named Jon, alleged son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, is the one ruling the North. I hope this visit will help me to understand the current scenario.” Baelish looked directly to Jon for the first time. The smile he carried felt like an insult to Jon.

“Indeed, my lord.” Jon replied politely. “The scenario must sound confusing to someone from the Vale, but I assure you that the reality of it is a simple one. I am the King in the North according to King Robb’s will and by rights of conquest. Brandon Stark is a capable young lad and in times of peace he might have been the right choice, but we are at war. The North chose a king to suit the demands such a time impose.”

“This is a talking for another time, Your Grace.” Baelish said politely and the sound of that pleased Jon. “I have more urgent matters to address. Come forward, my dear.” He made sign for the girl with the hood to approach the table.

“Your daughter, I presume.” Arya said as she looked at the girl curiously. “Welcome to Winterfell. Would you pleased remove your hood?”

The girl obeyed and the first thing they saw was a mane of dark hair loosely falling to her back. She was no older than six-and-ten and something about the way she moved was strangely familiar. It was only when the girl raised her head to look at them that Jon felt a chill.

_It can not be._

“It’s good to be back.” Sansa’s voice was as melodious and clear as ever as she looked at them with an expression divided between curiosity and concern. “Although the configuration of the High Table is a bit...Different. I barely recognized you, Arya.”

“It is Lady Stark.” Jon corrected the young woman as he rose from his seat in a clear demonstration of his rank and power. He hadn’t fought and lied his way to the Throne to be threatened by Sansa. “You will address Lady Arya by her proper title, Lady Lannister.” At that Sansa’s face became pale and Arya looked at him in confusion. If Sansa was there to discuss claims, he would remind her that a marriage to the enemy was enough reason for him to have her cut off of the succession, just like Robb did in his will. Arya ignored his rampant of anger and rose from her seat.

“This is not the time for petty disputes.” Arya declared with the conviction and strength only a queen could display.

She left the High Table and went to Sansa as Jon observed that Arya suddenly looked younger and excited in a way he hadn’t seen in ages. That was something strange. The Stark girls had never been close, but he supposed that after so many tragedies endured, even them could find common ground. He wouldn’t deny Arya the happiness of that unlikely reunion, but he couldn’t say that he was pleased to see Sansa again.

Arya hugged her sister tightly as if they had always been good friends to each other. Sansa repaid the gesture, although Jon sensed some reluctance from her part.

“You are alive!” Arya said with enthusiasm and disbelief. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“It’s good to be home again.” Sansa agreed with that much, but Jon doubted that the circumstances of that reunion pleased Sansa in the slightest.

A bitter taste took over his mouth as he observed both girls holding each other. Jon couldn’t tell how much of a problem Sansa could be, but of one thing he was certain. Arya was likely to feel embarrassed by Sansa’s judgment over their relationship and that was something Jon would rather avoid.

He didn’t need Sansa looking down at them from her high horse and acting as Lady Catelyn would have. That was something Jon wouldn’t have. Arya belonged to him and he would gladly kill Sansa if she dared staying between them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of recent events I would like to thank all of the readers that even after all these years still follow my work and enjoy it. You guys are amazing and it's for all of you that I keep writing.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and reviews are appreciated.  
> P.S.: A shout out to Alden, who has been such a great supporter to my work.


	5. Chapter 5

Jon was civil, but nowhere near pleased to see Sansa. Arya could see it written all over his face. The paranoia eating him from inside out and the fear that her sister would somehow take Arya away from him. Arya doubted that was a real possibility, but she was still pleased to have someone familiar to talk to, even though Sansa had never seen Arya as her equal.

They ate together and there was a bit of a talk about how the Vale was inclined to join forces with the North for a defensive line, instead of backing up either Cersei or Daenerys. Littlefinger had drained every single advantage he could get from Cersei and Daenerys sounded like a risky bet for him. His excuse was a promise made to her mother about keeping Sansa safe.

Arya didn’t know what to think of that and there was still a prize on Sansa’s head for killing Jeoffrey. Baelish showing up at their door, bringing her sister home in sign of good faith and friendship didn’t sound right. He wanted something and Arya needed to know what. Maybe talking to Sansa in private would give her a better understanding of what was happening outside Winterfell.

When Arya went back to her room she allowed herself a moment of youthful joy. To have Sansa near felt like a good omen. Maybe she could help Arya to get Bran out of the Dreadfort and back to Winterfell were he belonged. They could be a family again.

Was that even possible though? After everything she did. After everything Jon did to her...Would it be possible for them to put the past behind and focus in a better future? If so, how would Jon fit in this new picture? A part of her feared the answer to those questions and the idea that the gods would never allow her to have the whole prize. Something would be sacrificed along the way.

Arya got ready to bed. The gown she wore was a heavy piece and something meant to impress the guests. It was something Sansa would have loved to wear, but in Arya it felt like a cage. Jon never cared about her clothes before, but when it was about showing his power over her to everyone in the land, he was very specific.

The feeling of her nightgown against her skin felt good. Freeing her breasts from the dress’ tight bodice was a relief. In a way it was the first time in a while that Arya felt that she could breathe.

Unfortunately that was a feeling that didn’t last long. As soon as her head rested against the pillow, Arya heard the door opening and closing again. The steps that followed were familiar.

Jon usually respected the privacy of her room. If he wanted her for the night he would generally tell her to go to his chambers. He respected it when she said she didn’t want to spend the night with him, although Jon didn’t like to be denied a single bit. Her room was hers alone, but not that night as it seemed.

He sat on her bed in silence, wearing trousers and a loose tunic made of soft wool. For a moment Jon didn’t look at her and his face was that of a lost boy.

“Nothing changes between us.” He declared, but Arya had the distinct feeling that those words were meant to convince himself. “Sansa’s presence in the castle means nothing to me. You are still mine.”

Arya remained silent for a while, without know how to answer to him. It was like walking on thin ice. She didn’t want him to be angry at her, nor to make their intimacy public for Sansa to judge them and feel disgusted.

“I’m tired, Jon. I would like to sleep.” Arya finally said, but instead of answering her properly Jon removed his tunic and trousers. He wasn’t letting her sleep any time soon.

When he came back to bed his cock was already half hard. Jon got under the furs and brought her body closer with an abrupt move. Arya closed her eyes as she felt his hands pulling up her nightgown and his mouth kissing her neck.

“Sansa is not your friend, Arya.” Jon whispered close to her year. His voice was hoarse. “She never was.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Arya questioned as she tried to avoid his touch.

“She will hurt you. She won’t think twice before pushing you aside to get whatever she wants.” Jon insisted as he got on top of her body and pinned her down to the mattress by the wrists.

Arya knew that fighting him was useless once he got her immobilized under his body. She knew what would follow. To resist would only make her feel bad in the morning and one way or another Jon would bed her.

They looked eye to eye, although that was far from being a position of equality. She could see it in his eyes that he was afraid, she just didn’t know of what.

Jon kissed her mouth, but unlike the other kisses that one was slow, gentle and sweet in a way that was foreign to her. His touch was suddenly light on her skin. His rough and calloused hands caressed her body with tender care. In a way it all felt like a bit of the old Jon Snow, the bastard boy she loved so much, was trying to come back into the light and make love to her instead of breaking her to submission.

“Be careful, my love.” He said as his nose traced her neck and his beard tickled her skin. “A world in which Sansa has to bowl in front of us is not one she will accept.”

“She is my sister.” Arya replied in a feverish tone.

“It never stopped her from hurting you before.” Jon took one of her nipples into his mouth and teased her. His hands roamed all over her body, making her skin warm and her mind airy.

When his mouth reached her cunt Arya arched her back and it was impossible not to cry out his name. The air vanished from her lungs as he gave her that obscene kiss while his fingers kept moving inside her. Her eyes were teary as she tried to contain the mighty pleasure that was ready to take over her mind and body.

Sometimes Arya thought that to be the worst way to break her spirit. To feel that kind of pleasure made her feel dirty. She should feel repulse and fight him as much as she could, but whenever Jon made her body melt under his, Arya was certain that he would always win and she would keep betraying her family.

Arya was still dizzy and her body tingled with the lingering ecstasy when Jon’s cock entered her. She threw her head back and tried to avoid his lustful gaze. Jon grabbed her chin and made Arya look at him as he kept pumping into her.

She clenched her teeth as she breathed with difficulty. She was so close to a second orgasm that it was difficult for her to not make a sound. Arya preferred when she couldn’t look directly at his face. It made things less real, less hurtful; if she climaxed without seeing him taking a wicked satisfaction at spilling his seed deep inside her while Arya convulsed under his weight.

When she gave up fighting her orgasm, Jon increased the rhythm until their love making became savage. Arya was still taken by blinding pleasure when the sticky warmth of his seed filled her.

Jon rolled to his side of bed and embraced her. He kissed her forehead and then her mouth while Arya still felt numb.

“I love you.” He whispered to her as if he meant it. As if love between them was something divine, instead of an ugly compulsion. “I know you crave for family and belonging. I will try to think of Sansa as a good thing for us, but...Be careful. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

It was hard to believe it when he didn’t seem to oppose hurting her every now and then. Jon never bothered to listen to her complains when his hands reached for her in the dead of night, nor he cared about how she felt every time he had laid her on her back to receive him.

That night something was different. Jon held her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. He whispered sweet things to her and for a moment Arya felt loved. Truly loved. Even when he bedded her for the second and then the third time, he did it in a way that felt almost holly. That night sex didn’t feel so dirty to her, but in the morning she would feel disgusted all the same.

Jon left the castle early in the morning to show Baelish the fortifications of the castle and give him a better notion of the danger coming from the wild North. Arya was left behind with Sansa, which was something she had been looking forward to.

Every time someone called “Lady Stark” Arya noticed that Sansa’s first impulse was to answer, only to be uncomfortable once she realized it was Arya the mistress of the house. Arya tried to not think of that as an offense, even though she knew Sansa probably considered that title hers by birth right.

They went to the godswood for a bit of peace and quiet. There Jon had no ears to listen to whatever they said and that was exactly what Arya needed. A place to talk openly about what they should do to help Bran, or at least to know what Baelish’s plans were.

Sansa stood a few steps behind her, just observing as Arya sat by the heart tree. They were both dressed in heavy gowns, with cloaks and hoods to keep them warm in the harsh winter. Arya realized with a bit of awkwardness that it was the first time her clothes were finer than Sansa’s.

“At least this place remains the same.” Sansa said as she looked at the heart tree with reverence. “Everything else is different. Even you look different.”

“How so?” Arya questioned as she prayed Sansa wouldn’t mention anything related to Jon.

“Well...You are not covered and dirt nor dressed as a boy. This is quite a change.” She said as a matter of fact. “You actually reminds me of mother.” That tinny bit of compliment made Arya’s heart rejoice.

“I suppose it would happen at some point.” Arya replied. “Childhood can’t last forever.”

“Maybe it should.” Sansa’s voice was sober. She didn’t bother to explain those words, but Arya knew the feeling behind them. They had been alone and scared for a long time. Their innocence had been ripped out of their hearts the day Jeoffrey called for their father’s head.

“What is it that Littlefinger wants?” Arya finally asked and for a moment Sansa was quiet, just thinking about the right words to say.

“I’m to marry Harrold Hardyng.” Sansa said simply. “This could guarantee us the Vale and its army.”

“The question is which claim this army will support.” Arya’s voice was cold and incisive.

“Not Jon’s for sure.” Sansa looked at her with a blank face. “Not with Bran alive. I know you always loved him, but...This isn’t right. Bran is the legitimate heir.”

“I think this is the first time we both agree on something.” Arya said sadly. “I tried to reason with Jon. I begged him to not send Bran away, but he won’t listen.”

“Is it true that he claims to be Rhaegar and Lyanna’s son?” Sansa’s voice was shaky. “This is so absurd that I can’t even imagine.”

“It is. He is the Targaryen heir, although I struggle to believe it sometimes.” Arya explained. “I’ve seen the documents and I’ve listened to Howland Reed. It is true.”

“Then he has no right to Winterfell. Not when Bran, you and I are alive.” Sansa added with caution. “I’ve heard some distressing rumors on our way here.”

“What rumors?” Arya looked at her curiously.

“That Jon intends to marry you. Some say he already did.” Sansa looked at her as if begging for Arya to deny those things. Arya’s stomach twisted and for a moment she felt nauseous. Arya lowered her face to avoid Sansa’s gaze on her.

“It won’t happen.” Arya declared as she fought against the tears. “Jon might dream of it as much as he wants, but I won’t have him.”

“It is true than.” Sansa concluded. “How could he even think about something like this? We grew up as siblings, no matter who his parents truly are. You can’t marry him. If you do...”

“He will have legitimate claim to the North in my name. I know...” Arya completed. “That would mean the end of Bran’s hopes to have his birth rights recognized. Is your betrothed willing to support Bran in this? Will he grant Bran an army to reclaim the castle and the title?”

“Harry will do whatever I tell him to do. I’ll make sure of it.” Sansa declared soberly.

“What about your marriage to Tyrion Lannister?” Arya wasn’t sure if Sansa was able to fulfill those promises. “I thought it was still valid.”

“That’s why we came here. We need help to have it annulled.” Sansa look at Arya nervously. “We were married just in name. Tyrion never once touched me.” Arya couldn’t help being jealous of that. “If you and Jon can help me get an annulment or even a declaration of my widowhood, I’ll marry Harry and Bran will have his army.”

“This things take time and I don’t know how much of it we still have left.” Arya answered with fear. “If Jon suspects of our true intentions, Bran dies, you die and I’ll be forced to marry him.”

“Without the High Septon and with the Faith in chaos, seven septons can decide it over the matter. If you can arrange to this trial to happen, then it could all be solved in a couple of months. We will tell Jon that he will have the Vale if he helps with this.” Sansa said nervously.

“You will have to write to Bran to warn him of it. Jon has been keeping me isolated.” Arya felt thrilled all of a sudden. “I’ll convince Jon to help you.”

“How?” Sansa looked at her with suspicion and Arya tried to ignore it. If she was going to do that, the less Sansa knew about Arya’s methods the better.

“You don’t have to know the details. Just trust me in this and write to Bran.” Arya insisted. “I’ll take care of Jon.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The promise of an army and a lasting aliance with the Vale didn’t seem something likely. It wasn’t exactly a surprise either. The new Lord Paramount of the Vale had no reason to trust Jon, nor even to care about his claim. Lord Baelish, on the other hand, seemed more interested in returning Sansa to her family as a sign of loyalty to Catelyn Stark’s memory. Well, he could take Sansa to the Seven Hells, but Jon didn’t bother to tell him that.

Their visit was untimely and not at all favorable to his claim. Even with Sansa being cut off from the succession by Robb’s will, she was still capable of causing a commotion, if so she wanted. Who could tell the sort of plots she could craft to favor either herself or Brandon? A world in which Sansa Stark was bellow Jon Snow in rank wasn’t one she would like and he wasn’t naive to believe that her sole reason to return to Winterfell was a homesick heart.

Sansa didn’t bother to speak more than a few words to him. They had never been close nor fond of each other, so that wasn’t exactly a surprise. Arya was pleased with the idea of having someone to talk to although Jon doubted those heartwarming feelings would last.

Arya retired early to her room that night, leaving Jon behind with the guests for a couple of hours. He considered to pay her room another visit, but maybe it would be for the best for Arya to have some peace. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed in front of Sansa. That simply wouldn’t make her look at his proposal with good eyes. No...Arya had a proud nature. To insult her dignity wouldn’t work in his favor.

It was late when Jon decided to call it a night and retire to his chambers. He felt tired and his mood was sour. Things would be much easier if only Arya agreed with the practical solution. He wouldn’t feel so distressed over Sansa’s presence if he already had a true born Stark for his bride. He wouldn’t feel so inferior either.

Once he opened the door of the Lord’s Chambers, a powerful and delicious smell took over his senses. It was something exquisite and exotic, like the stories he heard about the Free Cities. The marble palaces, the pleasure barges and pillow houses, with all the lovely dancers and courtesans seducing lovers and making them beg for their mercy. The incense was powerful, but the sight of Arya seating languidly in his bed was even more alluring and magical than any spell.

Her dark hair was lose, falling over her shoulders. Her body only partially covered by her robe. Was that a dream or a feverish illusion?

“May I know what this is all about?” He asked as he walked towards her. Arya lowered her head submissively and bit her bottom lip. Jon felt his blood boil inside his veins.

“You seemed distressed today. I thought it would be a good idea…” She lifted her eyes slowly. Her lips had been painted in a light shade of pink and she was blushing. “I wanted to cheer you up. Try something different.”

There was a trap there. Was she any other woman Jon would have asked for the price of such a lovely game, but it was Arya...No matter how coldly calculated every her moves were, Jon would never be able to resist her.

“What do you have in mind, little sister?” He asked as he touched her gently to raise her chin so Jon could give her face a good look.

Arya rose from bed and stood in front of him. Without saying another word she started to undress him piece by piece. She took her time to do so and the game started to get interesting. Arya was wearing one of the perfumes he had given her and Jon had to admit that it was so delicious and strong that he felt light headed as if he was drunk.

She removed his trousers and made him sit on his bed before she could remove his boots. Once he was naked Arya got away from him.

“Lay on your back. Make yourself comfortable.” She said as she went to his study table.

Jon obeyed without questioning. He had no idea of what she was planing, but Arya had him completely surrender. He observed as she moved around the room. She removed her robe slowly, so he could savor the moment and eat her with his eyes. When she came back to bed she brought with her two flasks from the scents set he had given to her. Arya put then by the bed before she could climb on top of him as seat on his belly.

“I have no idea of what you are planing, but...I love every bit of it.” Jon said in awe as Arya took his hands to place them on her body.

“So do as I tell you. It should be fun for both of us.” She said before leaning her body to kiss him slowly while her ass rubbed against his cock in a cruel tease.

He answered the kiss accordingly to her rhythm. It was all so slow, deliberate and passionate that for a moment Jon thought he was dead again and finally sent to heaven. Arya took her time kissing him and then she kissed his chest and belly, slowly tracing the path to his cock to take it into her sweet mouth.

Jon threw his head back and a growl escaped his mouth. Not one single coherent thought in his mind, only the delicious sensation of her silky and soft mouth sucking him, her tongue provoking him to the point of making the King in the North surrender completely to his lover’s will.

He thought Arya would finish him like that. He wouldn’t complain if she did, but he would rather fuck her properly. Maybe he could get her with child that night and they would finally agree with a date for the ceremony. Everything would be perfect then. Arya didn’t finish him though. She left him half mad with need and desperate for relief.

She picked one of the flasks from the nightstand and opened it. Arya pored a bit of the oil in her hand and rubbed it around his cock.

“What it is?” Jon asked. That might as well be poison, but at that moment Arya could even kill him and he would die a happy man.

“It warms the blood.” She said sweetly. “Makes everything more intense.” She put the flask aside and picked another. “This is for you to apply in me.”

Jon picked the flask from her hand and poured a bit of the oil on the tip of his fingers. It was dense and greasy with a faint smell of sandal wood and jasmine.

“What is this for?” Jon questioned. Arya grinned at him.

“It will make me slippery inside. You will feel like a wet eel inside me.” At every word she said Jon was more and more convinced that Arya was planing to drive him mad with need.

He rubbed the oil all over her cunt and then slid his fingers inside her. Arya threw her head back and moved her hips gently. Jon felt his skin warming up as she said. His cock was throbbing with need as looking at her body swaying on top of him was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.

Arya’s hand guided his cock inside her deliciously tight and slippery cunt until Jon was completely buried inside her. Arya placed her hands on his chest for support. Once her hips started to rock against his gently Arya had her eyes wide open and looking at him. Not a reluctant girl, nor a blushing maiden; Arya looked at him with the passion of a true lover before she kissed him again.

She rode him like an amazon as Jon’s hands grabbed every inch of her. Arya had him enslaved and delighted at the idea of submitting to her will as they fucked like the world was about to end. His body was on fire. Everything around him was on fire as Arya moved her hips.

Jon couldn’t tell if she had reached any pleasure from that little game. Arya had him finished just too fast inside of her.

It was a bit shameful to last for so little. Arya rolled to her side of bed, with her legs wide spread and started to pleasure herself with her fingers. She ignored his lustful gaze and the fact that he was stroking his soft cock, trying to get hard again to please her.

It would usually take him half an hour to recover once he had reached his climax, but with that wicked thing Arya had rubbed on him, Jon was back in no time at all. Once he was ready for a second round, Arya had just reached her own orgasm.

She looked at him languidly, with her cheeks flushed and eyes dark with lust. She pointed her sticky finger at the flask before she rolled on her stomach.

“Put it in my ass.” Her voice was hoarse as she got on knees and forearms. “Be generous about it.”

For a second he thought he had heard it wrong, but then he decided to not question his luck. Jon poured the oil on her ass, before his finger play inside it, making growl and breathe with difficulty. A second finger made her arch and grab the sheets tightly. Jon worked her gently until Arya relaxed a bit.

After another generous amount of oil, Jon guided his cock inside her ass very slowly. Arya cried out in pain, making him stop to give her time to adjust. When Jon pushed it all in, she bit her hand to contain her protests.

Jon’s hand searched for the little bud of tender flesh between her legs. He touched her as his hips moved in short thrusts. He couldn’t tell for sure how long it lasted, but when he came for the second time Arya’s knees were shaking and her whole body was licked by spasms.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Even though the oils should help her to endure that, when Jon entered her from behind she couldn’t contain her cries. She wanted to to tell him to stop and beg him to do something else to her, but she kept quiet. It was a small price to pay, if that meant getting an army and restoring Bran’s titles.

She closed her eyes tightly and thought of Bellegere. She had attended the Black Pearl a couple of times when she was with a costumer. Arya would stand in a corner of the room and she would bring to her mistress or her lover anything they required. Only the most especial costumers had laid with the Black Pearl like that, and Bellegere made it sound like heaven all the time. But then...Every lover was supposed to be the finest one.

Jon touched her intimately, rubbing that tinny spot that sent shivers all over her body. That made it all bearable as he kept pushing into her. Arya didn’t know how long it lasted, but Jon made her climax so hard that her knees started to tremble.

She laid by his side feeling utterly exhausted and dirty. The only thing she wanted was to sleep for the rest of her life, but that could not be. Her family needed Arya to be brave and smart. Bran depended on her.

Jon held her tightly and kissed her as if he was kissing a goddess. A part of her would be constantly disgusted at everything he did to her, but there was also another part that kept saying that Jon was the only one who would always love her. No matter how cruel, twisted and dirty she became, Jon’s love wouldn’t change. At every night she slept with him, that voice got a bit louder inside her head.

“Will you tell me what was this little game all about?” He asked. His voice was tender and carrying as his fingers run through her hair.

“I’ve made a decision.” Arya declared. “Sansa is in love with Harry Hardyng. She wants to marry him.”

“I don’t see how this is our concern.” Jon’s voice was careful and suspicious. “Besides, her marriage to Tyrion is still valid.”

“Would it be difficult for us to get the annulment for her? She says the Imp never touched her.” Arya tried to sound naive and loving. “If she becomes the Lady of the Vale, we will have our alliance.”

“I suppose her cause could be examined by a court. I don’t know if it would work though.” Jon explained. “What does it has to do with your decision?”

“You arrange the annulment and have Sansa married to Hardyng, then I’ll marry you to make sure the Vale will side with us.” Arya said as she caressed his face. “You must promise that Bran won’t be harmed though. No matter what, Bran and Sansa will be allowed to live their lives as they see fit.”

“Consider it done.” Jon said before claiming her mouth with a hungry kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all for being here, reading whatever I write, through thick and thin. I hope you enjoy the chapter and reviews are appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

He had the maester sending ravens all over the kingdom summoning seven septons and seven septas. He wasn’t an expert in the Faith of The Seven, but that should be enough to grant that trial a certain level and legitimacy and legality. It would take a couple of months to have it assembled, but Jon was sure it could be done and once Sansa was free to marry her petty southern lord, Jon would be able to claim his prize.

Although he was pleased with Arya’s sudden enthusiasm and acceptance, he was not naive to believe it to be solely an act of love. There was something behind it and he wasn’t giving Arya, nor anyone that might have influenced her decision, a way out of that bargain. He had the maester preparing a marriage contract. A guarantee that once her conditions have been met, Jon would have Arya for his wife and queen, along with the North as her dowry.

It took a couple of days for the document to be ready. Meanwhile Arya had visited him every night, with passion and longing. That was something he could get used to. A life with her, listening to her laugh again and hearing her whisper sweet nothings in bed once they were both done.

Jon summoned Arya to his private office after a week and she came to him dutifully as he expected. Arya entered the room dressed in thick velvet and damask. The tight bodice of her gown highlighted her youthful silhouette and reveled a bit of her bosom. A princess, just like those from songs. Lonely, lovely and lethal beyond imagination.

Jon took both her hands and kissed them with devotion.

“No matter how unhappy or distress I may feel, looking at you is enough to soothe me.” He said as he caressed her cheek.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She answered. Acceptance finally took root inside her and now Arya was getting used to the idea that he was the true king. Things were finally falling into their right places. “Have you summoned me?”

“Indeed, I have.” Jon replied with a satisfied smile. “There is something I want to show you. Please, have a seat.”

He pointed at a chair by the studying table and Arya took the seat immediately. Jon picked up the parchment scroll from his drawer and handed it to her.

“What is this?” Arya asked as she looked at him curiously. She opened the document carefully and her eyes skimmed through the text.

“I had this document prepared so we can make our betrothal official.” Jon said with intimate satisfaction. “You see...I want the kingdom to rest assured that I’ll soon have my queen. I already had word sent to summon the septons and septas to judge Sansa’s case. Once she is free from Tyrion Lannister, our wedding will be performed at the godswood.”

“You promised me it would only take place once she was married to Hardyng.” Arya questioned carefully.

“We can have both ceremonies here.” Jon suggested. “Wouldn’t it be good to have your sister here to witness our wedding?”

“I suppose.” Arya answered with uncertainty. “Does Sansa know about this?”

“Not yet. I won’t rob you of the privilege to tell her about it. I’ll write to Lord Hardyng personally, if I must.” Jon replied with a confident grin. “This contract will grant you the formal status of my betrothed, along with some rights to money and land should I die before the marriage takes place.”

“It’s also a way to keep me tied to you even if you fail to fulfill your promise.” Arya looked at him distrustfully. Neither of them was being honest in the end. That was a game of tactics after all, but Jon was convinced that he still had the upper hand.

“I will not fail you, my dear.” Jon replied gently. “A month or two...This is all what it will take for me to fulfill my part in this bargain. I don’t trust Sansa to wish for our happiness, so...Think of this contract as a guarantee that nothing will get between us.”

“Forgive me if I think that you are being overzealous about this.” Arya answered before dipping the tip of the pen in ink. “Sansa has more to gain from us than from any other ally. Any other house would have sent her directly to Cersei. Not even Bran could get her free at this point.”

“You are so clever.” Jon replied dazzled as he observed Arya putting her name to the contract. “I know I worry too much, but you’ve made me so happy...I don’t want to take risks and I want the world to know that you will be my queen.”

“You became a vain sort of man, Jon.” Arya replied before handing him the signed contract. “It’s a bit stupid of you.”

“I know.” He grinned before kissing her mouth briefly. “You certainly can’t blame me for being happy. I dreamed of this day long enough. I am so happy that I want you to write to Brandon telling him about the good news.”

“What sort of joke is this?” Arya was suddenly confused by his suggestion.

“Exactly what I said.” Jon’s grin got wider. “I want you to tell Bran that you accepted my proposal and, in honor to my bride and her family, I agreed to give him a position in my Small Council. Think of it as my way to make amends.”

“This is...Very generous of you.” Arya said in awe. She rose from her seat and stood in front of him. Arya touched his face tenderly before kissing him. “Thank you, my love.” She whispered once the kiss was broken.

Jon pulled her closer and kissed her again, only this time with passion. His hand was lost in her hair as Arya’s fingers massaged the back of his head. If heaven existed, that was it.

“It could have been like this from the start.” He said as he rested his forehead against hers. “I know it’s not your fault. Bran made...He made everything more difficult than it needed to be. You were just being loyal, as you’ve always been.”

“You are not angry with me then?” She asked shyly before holding him and resting her head against his chest. Jon kissed the top of her head and smile. He hadn’t feel that happy in a long time.

“At you? Never.” He said as he played with a lock of her hair, while still holding her in his arms. “I knew it was a matter of time and patience for you to accept it. The gods made me come back to life so I could find you...So I could have you back.”

He let that escape his mouth. To hold Arya in his arms was a way of making sure that he was alive. Jon could barely remember that night, but he remember the darkness and the cold. He remembered her name being whispered from the void and in his conscience. _Arya...Arya..._ Whenever Jon closed his eyes and she wasn’t near, fear and anxiety would get under his skin. _I want my bride back. I want my bride back...I want my bride back._

When his eyes were open again and his second life started, Jon woke up with a taste of blood in his mouth. He claimed Winterfell back, hoping to rescue Arya in the process, just to find a lie. Winterfell and the North were consolation prizes for a while, but when Arya arrived home it was clear that the North belonged to them. They should rule together.

Her fingers touched the scar on his face. Jon closed his eyes and felt her lips on his again. That was how things were supposed to be.

“I’m here now.” Arya’s voice was sweet and loving. “Sansa will be free from the Lannisters and Bran will be back home.”

“And you will be my wife and queen.” Jon completed. “With a bit of luck, you’ll soon conceive and everything will be perfect. Tonight we will announce our betrothal. I want you to put your finest gown for the occasion.”

“As you wish.” Arya agreed with a pleasant smile.

“Don’t forget to write to Brandon telling the news. Hopefully he will understand my generosity and agree that this is the best outcome for all the parts involved.”

“Of course. I’m sure Bran will agree with it.” Arya looked down before making a charming reverence. “See you tonight, my love.”

“I’ll wait for you in the Lord’s Chambers.” He grinned at here suggestively. Arya nodded with her head before turning around and leaving the office.

Jon observed as she walked away. Although he was tempted to believe that Arya had finally seen reason and accepted her feelings for him, Jon feared that she had been influenced somehow and not for someone with Arya’s best interests in mind. He wouldn’t have anyone getting between them.

Jon looked at the contract she had just signed. She might not have realized how careful he had been about the document, but that was all for the better. Aside from the bride’s price and the guarantees to keep Arya safe should he die before the wedding was performed, Arya was named his heiress and rightful queen. Just in case she tried to dissolve the alliance once Sansa was free from Tyrion Lannister, the contract attested that the marriage between Jon and Arya should take place after the marriage of Lady Sansa, without specifying the suitor.

One wrong move and Jon would have a septon performing the rituals in front of a heart tree and Arya wouldn’t be able to escape it. Her signature on that document was all the acceptance that he needed.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The contract was an unexpected turn of events. Arya never imagined that Jon would ask for proof of her intentions in such a way; and how could her not sign the document without raising suspicion? That was a trap, but hopefully Bran would annul that contract once he was back at Winterfell.

That document wasn’t the only surprise Jon had prepared. To offer Bran a position in his Small Council and assuring her that her brother would be at Winterfell for Arya’s wedding was indeed a generous offer. Arya had no idea if he intended to fulfill that promise, but then...Jon might have many flaws, but he never lied to her.

Sansa would be displeased by the betrothal thing, but Arya would have to tell her that it was the only way to have Jon getting the annulment.

That was a trick with smoke and mirrors. The same game of faces she had played so many times in Braavos. Arya had to make Jon see what he wanted to see and only that. To achieve that Arya would speak what he wanted to hear and offer him everything he wanted from her.

At least sex felt less shameful and dirty when she initiated it. Jon was particularly fascinated by her when Arya took control over their lovemaking. The scents and oils from Braavos became a regular thing between them, along with other games. The more satisfied he was, more power he would grant her inside the castle. Every time Arya had him under her body, begging her to allow him his pleasure, she realized how much she enjoyed having this kind of control over a king. _When power and pleasure walk hand in hand for you, then you’ll know that you are a true courtesan._ Bellegere’s words finally started to make sense.

Arya had that in mind when she was getting dressed for that night. Her gown was white and gray with fur covering her shoulders and all the way around her neckline. The long bell sleeves were meant to reinforce the idea that she was a woman grown. Her hair was all braided and adorned with stripes of fine white lace. That wasn’t a wedding dress, but Arya was convinced that she looked enough like a bride to convince her audience of her sincerity.

When Arya entered the room all eyes were fixed on her. Jon stood at the High Table with a proud smile on his face. Sansa had been placed at Arya’s left side and her sister seemed to have chocked with her wine.

Lords and ladies bowed as she passed in sign of respect. By accepting the King’s hand, Arya was officially recognized as the future Queen consort and that brought a sense of peaceful bliss and relief to the Lords. She would put an end to the dispute and the North would finally know peace under a lawful reign. She was the true key to the North.

Once she took her place at the table, Jon took her hand in his and made sign for everyone to seat.

“My Lords and Ladies, faithful subjects and loyal friends, it is with a joyous heart that I announce my betrothal to Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, sister to the late King Robb.” Jon declared with a wide and confident smile, while still holding her hand. He called for the maester that came forward with a scroll of parchment in hand. “Here it is. The marriage contract with the terms of the future alliance. Every castle and stronghold in the North will receive a copy of this document, and another copy will be sent to the Citadel. Let the world know of my love for my princess and may the gods bless this union.”

Cups and horns were raised all around in a loud toast to the couple. Sansa remained by her side, pale and looking nauseous with the whole scene. _If only she knew what I had to do to get her free from that Imp. She would never call me sister again._

Jon was obsessed with the whole symbolism of the moment. He wanted everything to be legal and legitimate, although the wedding night had been consummated even before the bride could agree with the marriage. He called for another servant, who brought in his hands a small wooden box.

“I want you to have this small token of my love for you, my dear.” Jon said before picking from inside the box a silver ring all carved with runes and wolves. “With this ring I declare my love and promise in front of witnesses to marry thee, Arya Stark.”

That sneaky bastard. He was implicating her in every way possible, making her dance according to his tune and closing every door and window out of that commitment.

“I accept your gift and your love, my king.” Arya let him put the ring on her. “With a kiss I promise to marry thee, Jon Targaryen, First of His Name, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell.” Every word felt like a blade piercing her heart and the kiss she so willingly gave him was the worst treason of all.

The guests roared in approval and once the kiss was broken the feast started. She drunk as much as she could in an attempt to numb her senses. Jon wanted her in the Lord’s Chamber and the gods new she might not sleep that night. Arya wondered if he would be up for their new games, or if Jon would like to keep things more traditional in the bedchamber to honor their commitment.

At some point, Arya felt Sansa’s hand on hers in a sign of her sister’s distress over the whole episode. Arya looked at her and smiled as if she was receiving her greetings. Sansa leaned her body to whisper something in Arya’s ear.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked exasperated while Jon was distracted talking to one of the tenants. “You are legitimizing him! I thought you were fighting for Bran!”

“What do you think I’m doing? This is the only way for him to arrange for your marriage’s annulment. Jon already summoned seven septons and seven septas to examine your plea.” Arya replied with a wide smile. “It was the only way to convince him. Once Bran is restored to his rightful place, this nonsense will be annulled.”

“Assuming he won’t marry you first.” Sansa added.

“He wouldn’t dare. Have you written to Bran?” Arya asked in a hushed voice.

“I did. I’m waiting for an answer.” Sansa replied as she tried to focus on something on her dress. “Are you sure this is the only way?”

“I am.” Arya’s voice was sharp. Sansa was silent for a moment and a sober expression took over her face.

“What if...What if he try to...To bed you?” She asked nervously. “We can no longer trust his honor. He could force you so you would have no choice but go on with it.”

Arya closed her eyes and took a sip of wine from her cup. The memories of the first night came to her mind all of a sudden. The way his fingers entered her without care, his body on top of hers and his hands keeping her pinned to the mattress as his cock entered her painfully. All the times he laid got her on her knees and arms, to fuck her like Ghost would do to Nymeria in the woods. The nights he invaded her room and bedded her on her own bed just because he was afraid.

What did Sansa know about a man’s honor? What did she know about being bedded and having no agency on the matter, to the point of feeling disgusted in her own skin? Jon had her in his bed more times than Arya cared to remember and it was a miracle that he didn’t get a child in her in that mean time.

“He wouldn’t do it.” Arya lied for the sake of her sister’s naivety.

When the guests were drunk to the point of oblivion and most of them decided to retire to their rooms, Jon offered her his hand. Arya took it without questions so he could escort her back to his chambers.

A part of her wondered why was she going through all that trouble when simply accept that as her new life was way easier. Jon was making a queen of her. He was giving her an amount of power that Arya would never have in another way. To pretend and lie, to plot behind his back and keep that feeble hope of giving the titles and the castle back to Bran...All of that was exhausting and what Arya saw inside the Great Hall was all the great houses in the North raising their cups in relief.

Was it really wise to raise an army and throw her country in chaos again? Even if Bran was the rightful King, would he be able to pacify the land so they could fight a common enemy?

A young king, seasoned in battle, a trained leader and capable of siring a long lineage to guarantee the security of his dynasty, with a young queen of pure Stark blood to secure the legitimacy. Any Lord with half a brain would see in that a worthy monarch, while Bran’s future was uncertain and war was something beyond his capacities thanks to the limitations of his body. Even his capacity of siring an heir would be questioned.

“What was it that you and Sansa were talking about? She seemed distressed.” Jon said suddenly, dragging her back to reality once they reached the Lord’s Chambers.

“She is worried about the annulment and a bit shocked with the betrothal. You can hardly blame her.” Arya said as they entered the room. “It’s not an easy thing to accept.”

“She will get used to it.” Jon said as he removed his cloak and blades. “I can’t even express how happy you’ve made me today.”

“Everything is falling to place, my love. Everything will be as it should be.” Arya replied before undoing her braid.

“Indeed.” Jon’s fingers started to undo the knots of her dress. “How do you feel about it now? About marrying me?”

“I won’t lie to you.” Arya felt his mouth kissing her shoulder as Jon undressed her. “It’s difficult to not think of you as my brother some times. At the same time I think that I could never love another man as I love you. Whenever I thought about home, it was your face what I saw.” Jon held her tight before taking her all naked and powerless to his bed.

“I felt the same.” He confessed as he undressed himself. “Sometimes I think the only reason why I’m here is because of you. To pretend that I love you as a brother loves a sister...It’s pointless. I couldn’t deal with the idea of you with another man, so I had to do what I had to do. Make you mine in every way possible.” He was completely naked as he walked back to bed. “Touch yourself, little sister.”

Arya spread her legs widely and started to play with her cunt exactly as she had learned from Bellegere. Jon stood there, looking at her with eyes dark with lust. His gaze made her body warm and the way he was torturing himself by watching her without touching her body gave Arya an intimate sort of pleasure. Soon her fingers were sticky and her cunt all wet.

Jon went to bed and soon his fingers replaced hers. He was feeling traditional that night. He wanted her all small, frail and submissive under his body. At least he took the time to prepare her and the way his tongue worked on her made Arya howl.

Arya was still numbed when he held her by the wrists as he looked at her face. Jon had a wicked sort of pleasure in kissing her mouth and make Arya taste herself. He entered her slowly, making her moan. He pumped deep into her, making her arch under his body. Arya kept looking at him, making love with him through her eyes as Bellegere said. That always woke up his wild side and soon Jon would increase the rhythm until he was growling against her neck.

Jon eventually had her on her knees and forearms. He liked to embrace Ghost’s wildness and fuck her like an animal would. He grabbed a handful of her hair before his cock entered her again. Arya closed her eyes as he started to move, just to focus on the pleasure he could give her if she relaxed and played along.

When Arya was almost reaching her climax, she opened her eyes and instead of a closed door, what she saw was Sansa standing there, looking at them with sheer horror all over her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like the chapter. Reviews are always appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa ran away and before Arya could react to that in anyway, Jon finished inside her. She was petrified. Why would Sansa be there in the first place? Why was the door open? Why was Jon silent about that when he should be enraged by her audacity?

Jon held her in his arms and pulled her to lay in bed with him. He kissed her shoulders tenderly and played with a lock of her hair, while Arya couldn’t even breathe. What would Sansa do now?

“It’s good for her to know where your loyalty stands.” Jon said it softly, as if that meant nothing especial. As if he had just told Sansa to shut up or leave the castle to reinforce his authority.

At that Arya pushed him away and rose from bed feeling her blood boiling with anger. She grabbed her clothes from the floor and got dressed as fast as she could. Jon was soon standing behind her and grabbing her arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked, but the only answer he got was a burning slap on his face. Jon looked at her startled, and furious and fearful. His face was pale while Arya walked toward him with the fierce rage of a she-wolf standing her ground. He needed to be remembered of who she was.

“You planned this.” There was no question about that. Jon had that trap settled at the moment Arya signed that document. “All along you planed this! How much more you need to humiliate me? It isn’t enough for you to have me dressed in fine clothes and parade me around as if I were your brand new toy? Isn’t it enough for you to have everyone knowing that I’ve been your whore for months until I gave you the answer you wanted? How much more I’ll have to endure for the sake of my love for my family?!” Her eyes were burning and her voice was loud and powerful. As she walked, Jon gave a few steps back.

“Nothing of this would have happened if you had agreed with my plan from the start.” He replied with conviction and boldness even if fear was written all over his face. Good. He should be remembered of who she was. “Do not presume that she had your best interests in mind, Arya. If I fall by Sansa’s hand, do you really think she would spare your life? She would have both of us killed. It was very clever of you to tell her to send the letter. You just gave me proof of her treason.”

“If she is a traitor, so am I and so are you! You betrayed Bran and usurped him. You took away our home, you lowered and humiliated more than I dare to say! You are sick, Jon!” Her rage wasn’t fading any time soon.

“Is that so? Robb named me, my dear. If you must accuse someone, it’s not me.” Jon replied. “As for your part...I know you still harbor this hope of the wolves coming back, but you also know it’s futile. You gave me your word today. This is a bond you won’t escape.”

“You didn’t get the annulment for Sansa. Bran isn’t here.” Arya replied sharply. “If you lay a hand on me to drag me to the godswood against my will, I’ll remember you with whom you are dealing with. You are not the only one here with blood in your hands.”

“Who said I won’t fulfill my promises? Sansa will be free. Right now she serves no one’s purpose. As for Bran, he is way more inclined to recognize my claim now. You’ll see.” Jon spoke sweetly this time, in a clear attempt of calming her down. “This argument is pointless, my love. Come back to bed.”

“Pointless? What you did was to expose me, to embarrass me!” She roared back. “I should kill you for this. You are no King unless I say so. The North is mine. It was raised it’s swords for my name before. It will do it again.”

“It won’t, my love. The North is at peace with me. We prepared for other enemies and you, my dearest...You look always so fine in public. Well dressed, healthy, well cared for...I’m not a monster like Bolton. I treasure you like no one else and the whole North can see it. Sansa doesn’t care for you. Brandon wouldn’t think twice before trading you to have men, weapons or to put an end to a dispute.”

“Then I’ll kill you myself.” Arya growled. “You know I can manage it. Lay a hand on me again, humiliate me again, and I promise you that I’ll give you a final gift.”

Arya turned her back at him and walked towards the door again. Jon tried to follow her, but Arya reached his dagger first and pointed is to his throat.

“Follow me and I’ll open you from throat to cock.” Arya replied bitterly and Jon knew better than to try the limits of her patience.

“Fine. You need space. I can agree with this.” Jon gave a step back and for the first time in a long while Arya saw him not as a monster, or a tyrant. She saw Jon Snow. Motherless, loveless, heartbroken. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want to make you happy.”

“Your idea of happiness is quite twisted. You can’t make me happy. Not when you treat me like property or a breeding mare with no purpose other than lay with you.” His eyes were suddenly teary. “This thing you’ve become...I could never love you like this. No one could. You are disgusting. You make me sick every time you touch me.”

If it were any other woman telling him those things, Jon would have either turned his back with indifference or answered furiously. It was Arya though. The first woman he ever loved. Probably the only woman he ever loved. She should have stabbed him in the heart already. It would be less painful and she was completely aware of it.

Arya walked away as fast as her legs allowed. Her whole body was shaking in a mix of anger and panic. He knew. Jon knew of Sansa’s plan and he had proof against her. It was over and she was somewhat aware that there was only so much she could keep him in check. She had never felt so lonely before. She had no ones love; her own family would never forgive her.

It was too late for her. Jon had made of her a creature of his own. So dirty, treacherous and mean that only an equal could love her. Jon was her equal after all.

Arya entered her room and locked the door. She also put the dagger under her pillow in case Jon tried to surprise her in the middle of the night. Sleep just didn’t come for her.

Arya got dressed and left the room before the whole castle woke up and went straight to the godswood. That was the only place she seemed to find some peace. The scary face of the heart tree were a sort of comfort and the silence was a blessing.

She sat under the tree all wrapped up in her thick cloak and closed her eyes. Somewhere in the woods Nymeria was hiding until the pups were born. Ghost had been roaming around the place, ready to attack anyone who dared to get too close to his mate. Arya wondered if Jon was doing the same to her.

She cried in silence for a while and tried to think of what to do. At some point she fall asleep despite of the unforgiving cold.

Arya didn’t know for how long she remained there, but when she opened her eyes, Sansa was standing in front of her.

“Sorry.” She said with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m going back to the castle.”

“Stay.” Arya said back as she rose from the floor. “I need to explain something to you.”

“Explain what? That you have been his mistress for a while and I was the only one who thought that you cared about Bran? I should know. You will always chose Jon. We are nothing to you.” Sansa snapped back sourly.

“How do you think I managed to make him summon the septons and present your case to examination? How do you think I bought the little autonomy that I have in the house? Make no mistake, Sansa. I am a prisoner just like Bran. The difference is that Jon thinks I’m useful. If he fucks me, he has pleasure; if he marries me, he becomes the legitimate ruler; if he gets a child in me, than he will be the undisputed ruler of the North.” Arya replied harshly.

“Do you really want me to believe this?” Sansa laughed humorlessly. “Look at you! Mother never dressed so finely! You seat by his side and people address you either as Lady Stark, or Princess. You rule this place and Jon simply smile and thinks it to be the most wonderful thing as he always did to any of your pranks. You even signed the marriage contract! Now you want me to believe that you don’t want any of these? That you don’t enjoy the attention and gifts the bestow upon you in exchange for your services in the bed chamber?”

Arya lowered her head and tried to hide her tears. In a way it felt like being a child again, while Septa Mordane reported all of Arya’s failures to her mother. _“Why can’t you be more like Sansa?”_ She lost count of how many times she heard that.

She remained just as flawed and insufficient. She was the rebel child, the one without talents, without beauty...The murderer, the traitor and the whore. The only one who never said those things and never cared about any of that, was Jon.

“ _W_ _hy you keep trying to honor the memory of those who made you feel unwanted and unloved?”_ She remembered Jon’s words. _“Have I ever gave you reason to think that I wouldn’t want you back home? Have I ever made you feel unloved?”_

“I went to him to beg in Bran’s favor.” Arya answered as she fought back her tears. “I thought I could convince him. He never denied me anything before. I didn’t see that coming. Before I could say anything he had me pressed against his body while his hand touched me under my clothes. I couldn’t fight back, or call for help. Bran was sent to the Dreadfort and I remained here, alone, with Jon. I tried to keep some agency over my life and body. Sometimes I managed, but most of it...I feel sick, dirty, ashamed...All the time. I tried to do the best I could. I would rather accept any pleasure he could give me instead of feeling pain. You escaped Jeoffrey and Tyrion Lannister...You must know what I’m talking about. If I didn’t sign that document I would expose our plan. He had to believe all the sweet lies I told him. It’s useless now. He found your letter to Bran offering help. There’s nothing we can do, although he said your plea to the court still stands.”

“Lord Baelish just left Winterfell heading to the Vale to get help.” Sansa replied fearfully. “He...He will have us killed!”

“No. No, he wouldn’t do that.” Arya replied immediately.

“Look at what he did to you, Arya! If half of what you said is true, than we have enough reason the believe that he will do anything to secure his crown!” Sansa replied sourly. “Even if we succeed...You put yourself in a very delicate position. What we will do if you get with child? Jon’s child? Another threat to us! What would the child be anyway? A Targaryen, a Stark, a Snow or a Blackfire?”

“I am not with child!” Arya answered angrily. “At least this I could avoid!”

“Moon tea?” Sansa asked.

“Something like this.” She replied. “We can still buy some time.”

“We can only pray that he doesn’t suspect Petyr, or won’t reach him. I doubt you can handle Jon right now.”

“I was...I was very hard with him. He will be eager to please me for a while. This might give us enough time.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

He managed to destroy half of the room in a fit of anger. When the anger faded, the only thing he had left was the heartbreaking fear.

Fear of losing her. Fear of rejection...Jon could only hope for Arya to be lying to him. It simply couldn’t be. They had a good life together. Arya would come to him whenever Jon invited her to his chambers. She enjoyed the sex and how they cuddled each other afterwards. Arya was just angry at him and it was all Sansa’s fault.

The letter was the confirmation of his suspicions. Arya was still upset about Bran, but after Jon offered a position in the Small Council she seemed pleased. That was a reasonable offer and Brandon wasn’t being half as resistant to that as he had been in the past.

Sansa wanted power for herself. She wanted to beat them back to the shadows as she played at being the all mighty and perfect lady. Jon just wanted her to see Arya entering the room and listen to them having an intimate moment. That would have sufficed. He didn’t expect her to actually enter the room.

Arya was embarrassed and rightfully so. Nobody should see a couple during their intimate moments. That was something sacret.

Arya didn’t mean those things. It wasn’t possible. They loved each other and they would marry and have a number of children...They would grow old together and be buried in the crypts side by side. Still...Those words brought him to his knees in tears.

He felt like a child again. Crying alone in bed after one Lady Catelyn’s reprimands, or reminds of his inferiority. No mother to run to and get some comfort or consolation. It was always Arya to hold him and, even if she didn’t know why he was crying, she would always say that she loved him and make him laugh until the pain vanished.

Arya was the first woman to love him, to hold him and offer her shoulder for him to cry on. Being rejected, despised by her...That was something he wasn’t prepared for.

It was all Sansa’s doing. Since her arrival she had been cursing them, sabotaging their relationship out of jealousy. Arya missed her siblings and simply couldn’t see past their careful lies. They were all dangerous and greedy, eager to kick them back to their lower rank.

Jon was certain that they would soon have a reconciliation. He would bring Brandon back to Winterfell and Arya would be happy about it. Then they would have the ceremony in the godswood.

He decided to tell her that. He actually wrote to Brandon first thing in the morning, summoning him back to Winterfell. He had a copy of the letter with him so he could show Arya the honesty of his intentions. Maybe they would make amends after that and she would be back to the Lord’s Chambers.

Jon didn’t find her in her room though. The place was empty and cold. He asked about her to a maid and the girl said that Lady Stark had left early in the morning to the godswood.

He was taken by a sudden relief. Arya was probably trying to calm down and meditate over her actions. She would soon be back and they would talk properly. He could even promise to overlook Sansa’s treacherous behavior for the sake of their family’s peace, as long as Sansa agreed to accept him as the true king.

Jon told the guards to inform him as soon as Lady Stark arrived. They dutifully agreed to obey their king, but they also revealed a bit of vital information. Petyr Baelish had left Winterfell at dusk, riding toward the Vale. Apparently Sansa’s plans had already been set in motion.

Jon ordered for a small party to get ready to ride after Baelish and bring him back. Whatever he was trying to do, it was certainly not something good.

When Arya arrived at the castle it was already night. Jon looked at her eagerly and invited her to join him at the table so they could have supper, but she declined. Arya asked a servant to bring her something light to eat, a bowl of soup and some bread.

Although Arya said she wanted to be alone, Jon needed to talk to her and tell her the news. After dinner he went to her bedroom again and found the door closed. He took a deep breath and knocked at her door, but had no answer.

“Arya, please!” He begged. “Please let me in. I have something for you.”

“I said I don’t want to see you!” Arya replied with a shout.

“It’s about Bran!” Jon said out loud while trying to contain his first impulse of bringing the door down. “I wrote to him, my love. I summoned him back. Once he arrives we can discuss the future and you’ll see that I’m not doing anything to harm either of you. Bran will tell you of his life at the Dreadfort and he will tell you that we should be together.” He slammed the door once more while anxiety took over him. “Arya, please! Open the door!”

“I’ll only get out of here once Bran arrives and if he arrives. Meanwhile I have nothing to say to you!” Arya roared back.

“It is true! I can show you the copy of the letter!” At that point he was desperate. “He will be here soon. Please let me in. Let me see your face and talk to you.”

“We talked enough. Go away.” Arya remained adamant.

“What can I do for you to listen to me?” Jon asked helplessly. “Tell me what should I do and I promise you I’ll do it. Anything, Arya. Anything.”

“The only thing you can do is leave me alone until I decide to forgive you.” She remained cold and harsh in her talking. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

“Forgive me, Arya.” At this point he was in tears. “Forgive me, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I promised, here it is. A bit of aid after last night's episode. I hope you enjoy it and reviews are highly appreciate.  
> In light of recent events that happened in the comments section, I would like to thank all of you, faithful readers and friends, that keep coming and reading my stuff, and sometimes even defending it.  
> I'm truly blessed for having all of you and I would like to say that, even if the show sucks, there's one thing I'll always be thankful for. If it wasn't the show I wouldn't have met so many incredible individuals in this fandom. I'm thankful for having all of you, even if we don't talk.  
> Lots of love to all of you.


	8. Chapter 8

For days he kept coming to her door. It was usually the same arguments followed by Jon saying he was sorry and begging for her forgiveness.

Only one of the servants was allowed inside the room and Arya’s desire for isolation had been respected. She didn’t know for sure how long it would last though. So far he had somewhat accepted that she needed some time for herself, but Arya knew that he would eventually get tired and feel less inclined to respect her necessities and decisions.

That would keep him distracted, maybe enough for Sansa to find a way to warn Littlefinger and get help. If Bran arrived at Winterfell as Jon had promised, than he would have all the three remaining Starks in his hands and Arya no longer could trust that he would keep all of them alive.

Countless times Arya considered to open the door and listen to what he had to say. After talking to Sansa at the godswood, Arya understood that she would never be enough for her. It was frustrating and lonely to feel that no matter what she did, Sansa would always look down at her. When they were children, Sansa called her “Arya Horse Face” and laughed at her. Now that they were both women Sansa called her a whore and looked at Arya with despise.

Bran wouldn’t be any better. Who could think otherwise? Arya was seen in bed with Jon. No matter what she said, that night she had him on her own free will. Jon no longer tried to enter her room, or kiss her by force. He had been carrying, gentle and always ready to give her anything she wanted.

That was love, wasn’t it? Even in the past, when Arya doubted if her mother and Robb would want her back, she had been sure that Jon would, no matter how many she had killed. He still wanted her, despite of everything. Even when she openly defied him, Jon still wanted her. Why should her keep fighting for her family when her family wouldn’t fight for her?

Maybe Bran could try, but even him had said Arya should marry Jon before he could get her with child. Arya had ignored that for a while. After days in isolation, the only thing she could think about was that maybe she should just stop fighting. Her house was broken anyway. All of them had their own interests to defend and the only one who had included her in his plans was Jon.

From her window Arya could see a small part of Winterfell’s grounds and its people moving from one spot to another and carrying their lives in oblivious routine. That day things were different. There was an agitation in the air. Some sort of commotion outside and her curiosity got Arya out of her room, after she picked her dagger.

There was no one in the hallways to inform her of what was going on. Arya continued her path to the courtyard when she found one of the servants along the way.

“What is going on?” Arya asked in a hushed tone.

“Lord Baelish, my lady. He had left the castle in the dead of night a few days ago. His Grace sent men to bring him back and they just arrived. Lord Baelish has charged for treason against His Grace.” The servant girl said immediately.

“Do you know if there are any evidences?” Arya continued.

“I don’t know, my lady. The only thing I know is that the maester has been talking about letters to His Grace.” That was more than enough for Arya to feel her blood freezing inside her veins.

“I should talk to the maester than. Thank you for answering.” Arya moved away before anyone else could see her in the hallways.

She went to the courtyard, where the agitation was concentrated. Several guards were surrounding Littlefinger and dragging him to the point where Jon was standing. Baelish shouted and claimed that to be a mistake. In fact he was almost begging for his life as he affirmed to be innocent of all charges. _This is a show_. Arya soon realized his intentions. Whatever Baelish have done – and Arya was sure it had to do with Bran’s claim – Jon wanted him to be punished and to serve as an example to the others.

There was no army coming from the Vale and no hope for Bran to recover the title, nor for her to escape that prison. For a moment Arya even wondered if keeping her alive was still in Jon’s best interests.

Arya wouldn’t play the roll of the traitor just yet. She was still her father’s daughter and the Lady of Winterfell. She held her head high and walked into the courtyard, with everyone around bowing as she passed.

“What is happening here?” Arya asked in a cold and harsh voice. “Why is Lord Baelish in chains?”

No servant or guard dared to speak. Jon walked toward her calmly and Arya’s hand reached for the dagger’s hilt she carried with her in her.

“What a wonderful surprise to have you here, my lady.” Jon said in a satisfied tone. “I missed you and I was wondering when would join me again.”

“I want to know what is happening here.” Arya replied sharply, ignoring his attempts at gallantry. “Why is this man in chains?”

“I admire your commitment with the ruling business. Makes me sure that I chose my future wife wisely.” He smiled at her politely. That was yet another part of the show. It was his way of telling her that she was safe from accusations for the moment. “Treason, I’m afraid. The most vile sort of treason, but that is something I would rather discuss with you and the maester in private.”

Yet another trap, but this time was wasn’t so hopeless. Her grip tightened around the dagger’s hilt.

“Take Lord Baelish to the cells.” Jon commanded as if a man’s freedom meant nothing to him. He was once more the cold man that wore the crown. “Would you come with me, my dear? There is something I want to show you.”

There wasn’t much she could do against a request from the King in The North, not when half of the castle was looking at them. Arya simply nod and accepted Jon’s arm when he offered it to conduct her through the hallways, all the way back to the maester’s office.

She walked in silence for most of the time, although she could feel all of Jon’s questions hanging in the air, along with his endless excuses and declarations of love for her.

“I’m glad that you finally decided to get out of your room.” Jon said calmly as they walked alone. “Brandon will be here in a couple of days. He is eager to see you again.”

“I didn’t decide a thing. My feelings remain the same.” Arya answered soberly. “I went to the courtyard because I heard a commotion and I needed to know what it was all about.”

“I did you wrong. I am sorry about it, Arya.” Jon said in a constricted tone and she could tell he was about to cry. “All this cold treatment though...It’s very unfair. I did nothing but care for you and our family so far.”

“Save it for someone who believes that you care for anyone but yourself.” Arya’s voice was bitter and angry. She wouldn’t accept his manipulation. She wouldn’t let him break her convictions. “Bringing Bran home is just a cheap attempt at buying my surrender.”

“As long as it works...Call it what you want.” Jon replied sharply. “I’ll reach a definitive agreement with Bran and put an end to this quarrel between us. Once this matter is put to rest, you will have no more reasons to accuse me and act as if I were the villain in this.”

“It’s not only about Bran and the damn crown.” To speak those words costed her ten years and once more she was about to cry. “You changed. I don’t know you anymore. You are not the Jon I knew and you take pleasure in hurting people, especially in hurting me.”

“I did change.” Jon agreed in a dark voice. “Between death and being trapped inside the wolf’s mind, I doubt anyone would be the same after a resurrection. I will do whatever it takes to protect the North, our people and our family. This implies that sometimes I will hurt people one way or another, but hurting you? I would never do that. If you feel hurt at this point is because of your own stubbornness and resistance in accepting that I am the right choice for both the country and for you. You came to me first, Arya. With flirty eyes and sweet words to convince me that Bran should stay and you liked the idea of having power over me. You do have power over me and I will gladly submit to you whenever we are in our room, but you must accept that there’s only one option for us. You belong to me and no one else. Your loyalty, your love, you...I won’t share it with anyone else.”

Arya didn’t answer to him. Once they reached the maester’s office it was pointless for them to discuss those matters that were so intimate. She didn’t want to feel exposed again or to be judged by her actions. She just wanted it to be over, although she didn’t know what exactly was it.

Jon opened the door for them to enter the place. Maester Ambrose was there, sitting by his table and checking the records of food supplies. Ambrose left the books once he noticed their arrival. The young man came from the Summer Islands and his dark skin was unusual in the North, but it made Arya remember of the Free Cities and how many sailors, artisans and merchants she had seen that had the same beautiful skin and expressive eyes. Although Arya was sure that the young maester was loyal to a fault to the King, Arya still liked Ambrose, who had always been kind to her.

“Your Grace, Your Highness!” Ambrose said acknowledging their arrival and paying a discreet courtesy.

“I brought Her Highness with me so she can see with her own eyes why Lord Baelish had to be put in chains.” Jon explained calmly. “Would you please show my beloved the correspondence we managed to intercept, Ambrose?”

“At once, Your Grace.” Maester Ambrose immediately opened his drawer and picked a couple of parchment stripes meant for sending messages using the crows. “This one is from Lady Sansa to Lord Brandon. She promised him an army coming straight form the Vale if he granted her the position of regent until he came of age.”

At the sound of that accusation, Arya took the message from his hands. Her eyes skimmed through the message and incredulity took over her senses. It couldn’t be. Sansa serving as Bran’s regent? Her sister had never mentioned that condition. In fact Arya would be glad to have Bran ruling on his own and maybe having both his sisters as advisers.

“ _A world in which Sansa has to bowl in front of us is not one she will accept.”_ Jon’s words came back to haunt her and for a moment Arya felt the ground under her feet vanishing.

“That’s not all, Your Highness. Since we suspected Lord Baelish’s support to Lady Sansa’s plans, we managed to intercept a raven sent on the eve of his departure. A message to Cersei Lannister and Lord Baelish’s ensuring her that once Lady Sansa had Winterfell he would have her making peace with the Iron Throne in exchange for her pardon in Jeoffrey’s death.”

“I know the man, Ambrose. Littlefinger didn’t get so high without carrying for his own interests. What is his reward in this plan? As far as I can see, he has nothing to gain and a lot to lose. His head for starts.” Arya replied with angry incredulity.

“Sansa’s hand.” It was Jon to complete the information. “The man went through an awful amount of trouble to get her out of King’s Landing and have her marriage annulled. He isn’t giving her up to Harry Hardying, who is being so cooperative with Baelish since Lord Aryn’s untimely death. Hardying is a temporary pawn in his plans.”

“This would mean getting Bran out of the way.” Arya whispered in shock.

“Not only Lord Brandon, Your Highness.” Ambrose added carefully. “It would also mean attempting against His Grace’s life and possibly yours too, since you were not excluded from succession by King Robb’s will, and given to...” The maested made a pause, as if he wasn’t sure if he should speak his thoughts out loud.

“Given to the fact that I might get with child in the meantime.” Arya concluded and a bitter taste took over her mouth. “What will happen to Littlefinger?”

“You know the penalty, my love.” Jon replied in a soft voice. “There will be a trial, but I’m afraid that the evidences against him are just too strong.”

“What about Sansa?” Arya asked in fear. Even if her sister had plotted against them and considered to kill Arya to get Winterfell, she was still family.

“That depends.” His voice was sober and even a bit cold. “It’s for you to decide what will be her fate. The penalty for her acts are the same, but I might spare her life.”

“If…?” Arya already knew the answer to that question.

“Would you give us a moment, Maester Ambrose?” Jon asked politely and said nothing else until the young maester left the room.

There was silence for a while longer and Arya could feel the tension hanging in the air like a toxic mist. Jon had planned that moment to perfection and even if those letter were false, it would be enough for him to have both Littlefinger and Sansa executed.

“I want you back, Arya.” He replied finally. His voice was incisive and uncaring. “It’s quite simple.”

“Except it is not.” She turned to face him. “You ran out of arguments to convince me and now you threat my sister in order to force my hand. This is not love as you claim. This is coercion.”

“Sansa is a traitor that would have both of us killed, along with Bran, if she had the chance.” Jon didn’t seem affected by her accusations. This time he was in full control of his emotions. “If anything I’m protecting you and Bran from her. Once Brandon arrives here, I’ll have him taking part in the trial. He will have the chance to speak his mind about it. He will also be able to stay in Winterfell, if so he wants. I promised you he would take part in the Small Council and a mean it. What else do you want?” His hand reached for her face to caress her cheek but Arya gave a step back to escape his touch. Jon looked at her with frustration. He was running out of patience. “I am sorry for that night. It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you or humiliate you in any way. I just wanted Sansa to understand what was her place here and where is yours. I mean it, Arya.”

“I’m not marrying you. I will never let you touch me again.” She said as her hand searched for the dagger.

“Is this your choice?” He asked coldly. “Will you have me sentencing Sansa to a traitor’s death? She won’t even be allowed a funeral. I don’t think she deserves anything better than this, but I believe that even if she was ready to kick you back to an inferior position and was even willing to have you killed, you don’t want her to have such a fate.” Jon picked a bunch of keys that were placed on the maester’s table and handled them to her. “These are the keys to the cells. They are yours to do whatever you want. Free Littlefinger and Sansa if you want to, but remember that you might be sentencing both of us and Bran to death by doing so. Whatever happens to this country next it will be your doing. Your choice. Just keep in mind that I would never turn my back at you, little sister.”

Jon bowed his head lightly before leaving the Maester’s office.

Arya let go of the dagger’s hilt and felt her whole body shaking. Her knees could barely sustain her and she wanted to scream out of rage, frustration and impotence. Arya also wanted to cry over the bitter taste of betrayal.

Was that true? Would Sansa really get read of Arya and Bran for the sake of a crown? Arya wanted to believe it was all a lie, but at the same time she couldn’t help remembering the girl she left behind at King’s Landing. Auburn hair combed, a fine dress to highlight her natural beauty, a gracious smile and destined to become Jeoffrey’s queen.

Sansa always wanted a crown as much as she wanted the world to love and praise her forever as the most beautiful and kind queen that ever walked the earth. They never got along and since Arya was born she had accepted that she would stay in Sansa’s shadow forever. She was a second daughter, with lower chances of inheriting Winterfell and the titles and not beautiful or accomplished enough to make a great marriage.

They had never been equals and Sansa had always been sure that Arya’s life would always be in a level inferior to hers.

Arya looked at the keys in her hand and wondered what she could do. Who she should trust? She missed Bran. At least him would be able to give her an honest opinion.

“ _The lonely wolf dies, but the pack survives.”_ Her father’s voice seemed to whisper in her ears. She couldn’t let Sansa die even if her sister might not feel the same about her. They were the last wolves standing and winter was already threatening the land. A knot was formed at her throat as if an invisible hand was strangling her. _Jon is my pack too. He always was…_

Arya went back to her room and her self imposed isolation. Jon didn’t try to see her again or to have her by his side at the high table. The hours passed in oppressive and absolute silence. She wondered if Jon had sent Sansa to the cells too or if he had her sent to somewhere else until the trial.

The image of her sister walking across a frozen field, dressed in a simple and rough white dress, with her auburn hair hidden under a cap with guards by her side was too vivid in Arya’s mind. She knew how that scene ended. She had seen Jon repeat it over and over again with every men who stood accused of conspiring against him and House Stark. The guards would take Sansa to the scaffold, force her body down and place her head over the block. If Jon was feeling merciful, he would allow her eyes to be blindfolded so she wouldn’t see Longclaw’s blade. Her head would roll over the scaffold like a ball and the lifeless body would be dragged to a cart and the snow would be painted in red.

Her sister… A true born Stark, would have her name erased from their history. Her body would be burned and Arya wouldn’t be allowed to mourn her. _“_ _The lonely wolf die. The pack survives. She is my pack too...”_

_What should I do? I can’t let it happen._ Those thoughts kept coming to her mind, keeping her awake even when the whole castle was already sleeping. Arya sat by the fireplace, looking at the flames as if they could magically show her an answer, or...Give her the courage to do whatever she had to do to keep her pack safe.

A knock at her door dragged her back to reality. She hoped it wasn’t Jon.

“Who is it?” Arya asked. Her voice was hoarse and rusty as if she hadn’t spoken in years.

“It’s me!” Sansa’s voice said, making Arya open the door immediately.

Sansa entered the room visibly distressed. Her long hair was loose and in a complete mess. She walked from one side to another of the room, like a caged animal would.

“He imprisoned Petyr.” Sansa said fearfully. “He will be executed. I know he will.”

“Calm down, Sansa.” Arya said in a low and careful tone. “Be thankful that Jon doesn’t suspect of you.”

“Thankful?! Without Baelish we have no army! Bran won’t be King and I...I don’t want to be a Lannister, Arya. I don’t want them to have me like this!” For a moment Arya wondered if what Sansa really wanted to say was that she wouldn’t be regent, nor queen.

“There’s nothing we can do now without risking being accused too.” Arya replied cautiously.

“There must be a way to free him. You practically rule this place! Do something!” Sansa was truly exasperated.

“Come with me.” Arya said before she could leave the room, closely followed by Sansa.

The cells of Winterfell were a place their father never allowed them into, although Arya had sneaked to that dark and cold place a couple of times when she was a child. Littlefinger was there somewhere, but the place was all quiet and the only light there was that of the torches Arya and Sansa carried in their hands.

Arya put her torch at the entrance of the long hallway with cells on both sides. Most of them were open and empty, with only a bit of straw covering the stone floor.

“Wait for me here. I’ll try to find him. I’ll come for you once I find Baelish.” Arya said soberly as they entered one of the empty cells with an open door.

“I’ll go with you.” Sansa replied immediately.

“No! You can ran from here if you hear anyone approaching. No one will try to stop me, but you could be in danger.” Arya explained and Sansa finally agreed.

Arya got out of the cell, leaving Sansa behind. All it took was for Sansa to be distracted by a rat inside the place. As her sister screamed and tried to find the animal in the dark cell, Arya closed the door and had it locked.

Sansa looked at her with eyes filled with despair, incredulity, rage and fear.

“What are you doing?!” Sansa asked hysterically.

“Trying to save you from yourself.” Arya answered with eyes full of tears.

“Traitor!” Sansa accused her. “I should have known! Treacherous whore!”

“The only traitor I see is you.” Arya answered before picking her torch back and leaving Sansa behind. She left the dungeon with her heart in pieces as Sansa screamed and cried, begging her sister to let her go.

Her feet conducted her through the empty hallways of the castle, through a path she knew by heart. In a way, Arya felt like she was the one being dragged to the scaffold. She wouldn’t die that night, but she would give up her life anyway.

The door of the Lord’s Chamber was open, waiting for her to come back. Arya entered the room in silence and found Jon sitting by the fireplace, dressed in trousers and a wool shirt as he drunk what she figured to be mulled wine.

Once Arya entered the room Jon rose from his seat and walked towards her. Her whole body was shaking and her eyes were filled with barely contained tears.

“I will...” She took a deep breath. Jon stood in front of her, just looking at her face calmly. “I’ll marry you.” Arya picked the keys from her belt and gave them back to him. “Just don’t...Don’t kill her, or Bran...Please.”

Jon cupped both her cheeks and made her look at his face. He smiled at her with sheer satisfaction and the certainty that he had won. There was also that sickly adoration.

“Whatever you want, my dear.” His voice was soft, but the feeling of his hands undressing and touching her possessively, was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked and reviews are highly appreciated.  
> I would also like to share a video that @ladyspartacus shared with me, that reflects the spirit of this fic.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uminRMDkXyE&feature=youtu.be  
> Happy Easter, for all of you.


	9. Chapter 9

He had been waiting for her to realize the excess in her actions. Arya had always been stubborn to a fault, but never unfair. Honestly, Jon didn’t know how to deal with her when Arya’s strong will was turned against him and since he came back to life Jon was not a graceful loser.

Sansa made his life way easier in the whole plot to dethrone him. Her letter to Bran had given Jon all the proof he needed to have her executed, should her interfere with his relationship with Arya. Littlefinger’s sudden disappearance was just too suspicious for him to ignore and the guards Jon had sent to bring Baelish back had managed to intercept the other letter to Cersei.

Jon wasn’t sure how much Sansa knew about Baelish’s plans, but she was certainly comfortable with the idea of seizing power through a regency. Even if she succeeded, Jon doubted Baelish would settle for so little.

It only took a glimpse at the letter for Arya to understand that Jon wished for nothing but to protect them. Even Brandon was in danger because of Baelish’s plans and once Arya understood that, she came back to him.

She was obviously distressed and heartbroken over Sansa’s dubious loyalty. Even if they had never been close, Sansa was still part of what remained of the Starks. Arya would naturally feel protective of her sister and to learn such a treason would inevitably break her heart.

When Arya entered the Lord’s Chamber she was pale and trembling. It pained him to see her like that and the only thing he wanted was to comfort her and show his beloved that he would never let her down. Arya sometimes let her pride and stubbornness to cloud her judgment and as a consequence she distrusted his intentions, but Jon only wished for her to be safe and for them to be happy together.

Arya handled him the keys to the cells and he could see it in her eyes that she was about to cry. Of course she was afraid. Arya knew the penalty for treason and Bran was implicated by Sansa’s letter, although he never received it or gave Jon reason to suspect of him since he was sent to the Dreadfort.

Arya didn’t wish for her sister’s death, but Jon could only forgive Sansa’s wrong doings if his betrothed understood that he was not letting go of his claim over her and the North. Sansa would live as long as Arya gave up the foolish idea of crowning Bran and her misguided loyalty to her family. Jon was the only family she needed and once Arya accepted that they would be happy.

He picked the keys from her hands and put them aside. Jon cupped her cheeks with his bare hands and smiled. She was finally accepting that, although this conclusion came along with a certain amount of deception and fear. Arya begged him to not execute Sansa and Brandon as a condition for their marriage to take place. That was a price Jon could agree with.

“Whatever you want, my dear.” He said softly before kissing her mouth slowly and passionately.

Arya felt small and frail within his arms and that time he felt no tension or resistance in her. She kissed him back sweetly, although Jon could taste her tears in the tip of his tongue. Those tears would soon go away and Arya would smile and laugh again.

His fingers undid the knots of the simple gown she wore whenever she had no public duties to attend. It was easier for him to take off and Jon rejoiced and the feeling of her smooth skin against his hands. He slid the dress from her shoulders and it fell to the floor leaving Arya only with her small clothes.

Jon picked her in his arms and carried her to bed. He laid her there before removing her wool socks and small clothes. Even if they had been together several times before, Arya was still shy of her nakedness. She tried to cover herself with the furs of their bed and Jon allowed that much as he got rid of his own clothes and join her under the covers.

He pulled her body closer to his and kissed her mouth with hunger as he got on top of her. His hands get reacquainted with the gentleness of her curves before parting her legs to accommodate his body between her tights. His fingers searched for her cunt just to feel how ready she was, but Arya was dry like sand. That wouldn’t do. He wanted her all smooth and slippery to receive him.

Jon kissed her all the way down to her cunt so his mouth could make her relax and get ready for him. He liked the small sounds Arya always made when his tongue licked her before he could suck her without mercy. His held her legs above his shoulders, keeping them in place while Jon’s mouth worked. Arya didn’t reached her climax, but got wet enough for Jon to have her.

Jon kissed her mouth again before looking at her face. Arya avoided looking at him, but Jon wanted to look at her eyes when they made love.

“Look at me.” His husky voice commanded. “I want you to look at me, little sister.”

Arya obeyed, although her eyes took a while to reach his. She smiled at him shyly as he caressed her face. Her arms were resting still on the mattress and she had made no attempt to touch him. Jon placed both of her arms above her head and had their fingers entwined. Arya’s grip got tighter and she bit her bottom lip when Jon entered her.

That night felt like a victory and it tasted sweet. As Arya relaxed under his body and started to answer more enthusiastically to his caresses, Jon was convinced that they would be fine and live a happy life together.

He tried to hold back his own climax until he felt Arya tighten around him and her body shiver and arch under his. When pleasure came to him, making Jon blind to everything around them, the animal in him understood that the female had been definitely claimed.

Jon rolled to his side of the bed as Arya kept looking at the ceiling in silence. He could only imagine how difficult it must be for her to be confronted with the harsh truth of Sansa’s betrayal. Hopefully Brandon’s arrival would cheer her up and Arya would see that Jon had been worrying over her happiness and well-being from the start.

“I’ve made the right decision.” He finally said while turning to look at her. “You don’t have to feel bad for it. Sansa will live a long life and I will find her someone to marry once her marriage to Tyrion is annulled.”

“I thought you were no longer interested in the annulment.” Arya answered sadly after drying her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’ve made you a promise, haven’t I?” He replied gently before pulling her closer. “Bran is safe and cared for. With Sansa it will be no different once her punishment is over.”

“What punishment?” Arya asked with worry.

“House arrest until I can find her a descent husband once her marriage is annulled.” Jon replied. “You know I can’t let her actions go unpunished. Treason is a crime punished by death. Grating her full pardon would send the wrong message. It won’t be forever and she will be treated accordingly to her status.”

“As you wish.” Arya agreed. “Will you allow me to see her? To spend time with her?”

“Of course. Just be careful about it now that you know how dangerous she can be.” He was certain that imposing Arya limits was a foolish idea. She would be happier if he granted her those minor liberties. “Once Brandon arrives, we will have the ceremony performed. Littlefinger and Sansa’s trial will take place afterwards.”

“Why? I thought you would have her pardoned first.” Arya sounded slightly distressed.

“I need a good excuse to spare her. I’ll make of it my wedding gift to you.” Jon said as he caressed her face gently. “I’ve never lied to you and I’m not starting now. Let us just...Just try to be happy as a family.”

“We will...We will be happy.” Arya replied and Jon embraced her until she fell asleep.

Jon didn’t sleep much that night. His mind kept going back to Catle Black and the knifes in the dark. At that point treason felt like an old friend and Jon was constantly waiting for the next blade.

He left hid bed and Arya behind and walked aimlessly for a while. Jon thought about going to the crypts for a bit of quietness, but it was to the dungeons that he went.

The place had a foul smell and was the coldest part of the castle. There were rats there and enough ghosts to drive one crazy. Winterfells dungeons weren’t worst than the ice cells in Castle Black, but the darkness and the cold were more than enough to break one’s spirit and turn it to dust.

Jon found Sansa all curled in a corner, probably shivering from the cold. Once she heard his steps she raised her face to look at him with her eyes puffy from crying. It was the first time he saw the beautiful Lady Sansa looking more like a beggar than a nobleman’s daughter. The once future queen to the Seven Kingdoms, the wife to one of the most powerful man in Westeros, had become a shadow, a woman convicted of treason.

Jon removed his cloak and passed it through the bars before throwing it at her. Sansa grabbed it from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I’ll find you a more suitable chamber in the morning. This is no place for you.” Jon said soberly. “I hope a night here will teach you to not cross me again nor get between me and Arya.”

“You are a monster.” She replied with her voice full of poison. “No better than a usurper.”

“I’m not such a things. If I were you would be without your head at the first light of day.” Jon answered to her accusations without losing his temper. “Be grateful to your sister’s good sense and loving heart. If it wasn’t for Arya, I would make no difference between you and Baelish.”

“She is worst than you. She betrayed her own blood, her own house.” Sansa spat at his way and that was the most unladylike thing she ever did in her life.

“No. Arya understands that I am the right choice for the country.” Jon corrected her. “I’m also the right choice for her. You would do well to recognize it too. It will keep you happier and safer.”

“Why? Will you bed me by force until I submit, like you did to her?” Sansa accused with the rage of a caged animal burning inside her eyes. For a second Jon considered snapping her neck.

“I did no such a thing. I love Arya. I would never harm her.” Jon replied between his clenched teeth.

“That’s not what I heard.” Sansa got up from the floor looking at him with cold blind rage behind her blue eyes. “Does she cry in her bed? Does she try to escape your touch or feel tense?”

“There is always something troubling her. Something to make her think that loving me is wrong. You, most of all, poisons her mind whenever you have the chance and try to turn Arya against me.” Jon’s voice was sharp and cold as his blade. If he had the keys with him, he would have strangled Sansa to death. “Arya is finally out of your shadow and about to become queen. It’s no surprise that you would say anything out of jealousy and greed.”

“Believe whatever you want.” Sansa replied bitterly. “At least she was smart enough to not get with child. Who would ever consider to bare children sired by a monster like you.”

“What did you say?” He heard the words, but the meaning behind them were too dreadful for him to believe.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

She was at the courtyard waiting for the party to arrive, all dressed in dark gray velvet and wrapped up in a fine cloak made of shadow cat. Her clothes were meant to give away her status or just reinforce that Arya was soon to be Queen. The truth of it was that Arya felt small inside those things and even more uncomfortable given to the nausea that had been tormenting her for a couple of days.

Jon was standing by her side with a face that was anything but pleasant. His moods had been sour lately, but Arya didn’t know the reason. In the bed chambers he remained just the same, only more quiet. Something about him was off, but she figured that it was probably his worries about Bran’s arrival.

Bran’s party carried a variation of the Stark’s banners. A muddy red wolf with tree eyes in a white field. The choice of colors made her think of their mother and the leafs of the heart tree, both dear to Bran’s heart.

The cart that carried Bran’s wheelchair went ahead so the chair would be ready when Bran’s wheelhouse arrived. It wasn’t a large party, but enough members to make the castle lively again.

The wheelhouse finally arrived and Bran was carried to his chair by the strongest soldier at his service. Gendry was nowhere to be seen and that was provably for the best. The last thing Arya wanted was for Jon to feel jealous and find a reason to kill her friend.

Arya ignored protocol and manners once her brother was comfortably sat on his chair. She ran to him as if she was a child again and hugged Bran tightly. Bran repaid the gesture and fondled her long hair with his gloved hands. To see his face again was a relief to her heart.

“You look well, sister.” He whispered gently close to her ear. “Are you?”

“I am...Perfectly well.” Arya said although she wanted to tell him she was broken, tired and lonely. That she was afraid and at the same time confused by what Jon represented to her. She didn’t need to say that though. Bran’s embrace tightened as if he already knew everything about how she really felt. “Better now that you are home. Where is Meera?” That she spoke out loud.

“It didn’t seem right to bring her. The road is tiresome and Jojen is with her.” Bran replied with a faint smile. “She sent you her love and happiness in your marriage.”

“This is very sweet of her.” Arya replied with a hard smile.

“It is good to see you again, Brandon.” Jon’s voice brought her back to reality. “I hope the journey wasn’t too difficult.”

“It was as comfortable as it could be...Your Grace.” Arya was shocked at Bran’s reply to Jon. Was it true then? Bran had agreed to recognize Jon’s claim in exchange for a position as counselor? “It’s good to be back.”

“We should all get inside. The weather certainly isn’t adequate or comfortable to any of us.” Jon suggest and there was no option but obey.

At the Great Hall, Arya took the seat at Jon’s right while Bran was placed left. That was certainly a way to limit the siblings talk. Arya’s anxiety made her nauseous and ruined her appetite, but she had to put on a serene face so the guests would look at her and see a splendid future queen.

Eventually Jon noticed her lack of appetite. He held her left hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you feeling well, my dear?” He asked softly. “You barely touched your food.”

“I’m agitated with all these people here. I think I lost my appetite, but that’s all.” Arya tried to make it sound like a nuisance when she really wanted to run and empty her stomach at the nearest bucket she could find.

Arya was glad when everyone left to their quarters leaving only the three of them at the High Table. Jon still looked sober and remained silent for most of the night.

“I feel tired and I think I should allow both of you a moment of privacy to talk.” Jon declared for everyone’s surprise. “Goodnight to you.”

Jon left the Great Hall with heavy steps and a weird mood. Arya certainly needed to figure why. Since Sansa had been transferred to a small room and kept under heavy guard, things between them felt better. At least Arya knew that Jon was holding to his promise and it was only fair for her to pay the price.

Arya moved to the chair by Bran’s side and held his hand tightly. If they were lucky, Jon wouldn’t send him back to the Dreadfort and she would have a bit of company.

“I’m so happy to see you again.” She said to Bran with a faint smile. “I felt so guilty for the way we parted. I...I just wanted to help you. To make things right.”

“At times I think it was inevitable.” Bran’s voice was sad when he covered her hand with his own. “Jon would have you one way or another and...There wasn’t much I could do to stop. Does he beat you?”

“No. No...He was never violent against me. Not really.” Arya said immediately. “He fears you and Sansa will try to separate us and I’m constantly worried about you, but that’s it.”

“You look like a queen already.” Bran’s voice almost broke her heart. “I don’t want you to suffer because of me and I don’t want Sansa to die, so I’ll do what I must. I’ll formally renounce my claim. I look at you and I see a broken woman. Not even Braavos could break you. What happened, Arya?”

“Nothing.” Now that she could give her life a careful thought, Arya couldn’t find a good reason to feel like that. She had been beaten before by men much stronger than her. She had worked so much at Harrenhall that she thought she might die there like so many did. The House of Black and White had taken nearly everything from her in an attempt to deprive Arya of humanity. Nothing of that managed to break her spirit so...Why she felt broken now? “He likes it when I get dressed like this. Makes him feel secure of his position. I have everything I might want. Now that he will have no reason to fear you, I’ll be much better. Everything will be fine.”

“You are docile now. My sister was never like this.” Bran insisted.

“I need to be now. That’s how we survive isn’t it? Adapting, changing according to the time. Love is like this, isn’t it? I’ve always loved Jon. Why wouldn’t I love him now? If becoming his wife is the price to keep you and Sansa safe, I’ll do it gladly. It’s not a bad, it’s just...Different.” Arya lowered her head a bit in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “I was too stubborn. Nothing of this would have happened to you if I had accepted his proposal from the start.”

“It will take more than a Targaryen fit of anger to break me. We are the wolves of Winterfell. He can have the title, but he won’t change who we are.” Bran took her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. “You are stronger than you think. You are a true she-wolf.”

“I don’t want to be strong forever. I came back because…Because I heard that Jon had taken the castle and it was safe for me to return. I came hoping that he would make me feel safe again. Safe and loved.” Arya confessed. “Nothing can harm me now and, in his own way, Jon loves me. Perhaps it’s not in me to be happy with what I have.”

“I wish father was here; or Robb...They would keep you safe in a way that I can’t. I hope you’ll find it in you to resist and survive whatever he is doing to you. A world without the wild Arya Stark is not a world worth living.” Bran teased sadly.

“How is Gendry?” She finally asked. “Is he safe? Is he well?”

“He is fine. Built a house for himself and I’ve been teaching him to read and write.” Bran said. “He has been very helpful and he asked me to make sure you would be fine.” Arya noticed that Bran didn’t want to give much information, but just knowing that Gendry was safe and happy was enough for her. “I need to rest. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Arya agreed. “I’ll call someone to take you to your room. Sleep well.”

Arya left the hall and called for a servant to take Bran to his room before she could call it a night. At least she wouldn’t have to go to the Lord’s Chamber. Jon had agreed that she could stay in her own room during those days before the wedding for proper rest and decorum. It was almost funny that he was suddenly concerned with her reputation when he had done everything in his power to make sure that the whole North would know that Arya Stark was the King’s woman.

Her stomach still felt bad and the nausea persisted, but at least it seemed to be under control. Talking to Bran had soothed her a bit and Arya started to feel better. A good night of sleep would help her to feel more like herself and perhaps in the morning she could take Bran to the godswood.

Those thoughts made Arya feel hopeful and almost excited. If it wasn’t for Sansa’s arrest, Arya could even say that she was happy and be grateful to Jon for everything he was doing. It would be easier to be with him and maybe she could even come to like it in time, but any feelings of happiness and hope suddenly vanished once Arya entered her room.

Her drawers were all open and her things had been turned upside down. The chest were she kept most of her furs and heavy dresses had been too and Jon was standing in front of the fireplace. For a moment she wondered why he was there and the fear that he might have found her secret took Arya all of a sudden.

“What happened here?” Arya asked as she closed the door behind her. “Did you lost something? I thought you would let me sleep alone for a couple of days.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Jon answered with a heavy and obscure voice. “There was something bothering me. Something I heard about, but I couldn’t believe.”

“What is it?” Arya asked carefully.

“I have never forced you, Arya.” He said as he turned to face her and Arya froze in fear of what might come next. “You went to the Lord’s Chamber on your own. I’ve never dragged you there and forced you to lay with me, but still...You like to paint me as a monster.”

“I don’t...I don’t know what you are talking about, Jon.” She answered and hoped he would believe her even if it was an unlikely possibility.

“You don’t?” Jon gave a step towards her and looked at her face cautiously. “I hoped it to be a lie. I told myself you would never say such a thing about me, or that you wouldn’t be capable of performing any sort of cruelty. I wanted to believe this. My Arya...The woman I love…Would never betray me like this.” He raised his hand to show the little flask with the Braavosy powder. “I asked the maester if you had asked for moon tea and he said you never did. I asked if there was anything else a woman could use to avoid pregnancy and he mentioned a powder that is common in the Free Cities. Mixed with water or any other beverage, just bit would be enough to make a woman bleed. The maester said it had a spicy smell to it. A faint scent of cinnamon.” Jon opened the flask and smelled the content carefully. “Not the kind of scent one can find easily in the North.”

Arya looked around in search of something she could use to defend herself with. The cold look inside Jon’s eyes made she wonder if he would ever try to kill her. She no longer could tell. Instead of walking towards her, Jon turned back to the fireplace and threw the powder in the fire, and then threw the flask to the floor so he could crash it under his boot. She didn’t know what to say or do. The only thing she knew was that she wasn’t safe inside the castle anymore.

Jon once again turned to face her and Arya’s first impulse was to run to the door and try to escape the room. Maybe if she screamed loud enough, someone would come and Jon wouldn’t feel compelled to hurt her. Her hand barely reached the door and Jon was already behind her and grabbing Arya by her arms.

“You are not going anywhere.” He said coldly. “No until somethings are clear.”

Jon pulled her and threw her body to her bed as if Arya was some rag doll. For the first time in her life, Arya thought Jon might kill her. She couldn’t say when she had started to cry, but when Jon reached her bed, Arya was already sobbing.

“Why would you do this to us?” He asked in cold rage. “How many times you used it?”

“I...I don’t know.” She whispered between sobs. “Forgive me, Jon...Forgive me...”

“Why?” He asked but Arya didn’t know what to say. “WHY?!” He shouted at her, making Arya raise her arms in a defensive position.

“I...I...” She tried to think fast about an excuse he would accept and only one thing came to her mind. “Lyanna...I was afraid. I was afraid of dying like her.” The mention of his mother’s name made Jon stop and his face was a bit less frightening. “Everyone says we look alike.” Arya continued as she tried to dry her eyes with the sleeves of her dress. “I know you want children...An heir, but...I was afraid. Your mother died at my age and left you alone…I don’t want to leave you alone, Jon. I don’t want our child to grow motherless either.”

“Why haven’t you told me before?” It worked. Jon’s anger was dissipated and a sad concern took it’s place. “You could have said it to me.”

“You would be upset.” Arya said immediately. “I thought…I thought that if I could prevent it for a couple of years, it would be safer.”

Jon knelled in front of her and his gaze was now tender and full of worry. He held her hands and kissed them. Arya thought it was better for him to feel pity for her than to be angry beyond comprehension or reasoning.

“If you had told me about this, we could have gone to the maester. Have him checking on you, to make sure it would be safe for you and the child.” Jon kissed her hands once more. “I thought...For a moment I thought you didn’t want to have my child. It hurt me more than you can imagine. I shouldn’t have listened to her. Sansa is always trying to poison us and turn us against each other.”

“Indeed, she is.” Arya answered bitterly. “She is just a sad creature. She can’t accept our happiness.”

“In the morning we can talk to the maester.” Jon said in a sudden loving tone. “If he says it’s dangerous, than we can postpone it a while longer.” He cupped her cheek tenderly. “Poor thing. You been frightened all this time and said nothing about it. You don’t look well and it’s probably because I made you anxious. I can stay with you tonight, or just until you fall asleep.” Jon said as he rose from the floor to stand in front of her.

“There’s no need.” She said. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It was a quite a day.” Arya decided it was for the best if she made him believe that she didn’t paid their argument much attention.

Arya rose from her bed and reached for Jon’s face so she could kiss him goodnight, but before her fingers could touch his skin, her vision blackened and the last thing she heard was Jon calling her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it and reviews are appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

Jon took her in his arms and placed Arya on her bed before getting outside to call for help. A couple of servants heard him calling and Jon ordered them to fetch the maester immediately because Her Highness wasn’t feeling well.

He went back to her side and tried to wake her up. Arya seemed to be recovering her conscience after a couple of minutes, but she was confused and scared at the sight of him. Arya tried to get up again, but Jon tried to calm her down so she would lay back on her bed and wait for the maester. The color of her face was getting better when Ambrose arrived carrying his basket full of potions and weird tools.

“What happened?” Ambrose asked once he saw Arya laid in bed with her face still pale.

“Princess Arya doesn’t feel well.” Jon replied while running his hands through her hair. “She got very pale and fainted when she tried to get up from her bed.”

“Are you feeling something else, Your Highness?” Ambrose asked as he approached Arya.

“I’m just dizzy. It’s probably a weakness. I couldn’t eat today.” Arya answered slowly, in a groggy voice. “I’ll be fine after some bread and cheese.”

“You are not well.” Jon replied to her immediately. “Only the gods can tell what that poison did to you.”

“What poison?” Ambrose looked at him curiously. The maester would know how to get that out of her system. Jon could only hope it hadn’t damaged her in any other way.

“That powder we talked about. She was taking it.” Jon said immediately before looking down at her face. “Could it be a side effect?”

“It’s possible. The bleeding can make a lady weak and cause some dizziness, but I’ll need to check on Her Royal Highness to make sure of it.” Ambrose said in an incisive and professional tone. “Excuse me, Your Grace. Your Highness can you seat on your bed, please.”

Arya got up with difficulty. She still looked pale and feeble. He couldn’t remember of her getting sick and the sensation of impotence was almost umberable.

“Could you give us some privacy, Your Grace?” Ambrose asked with caution. “I would like to examine Her Highness and it would be for the best if she was comfortable.”

“I’m not leaving, maester.” Jon replied in a sharp tone. “My betrothed just fainted and I want to know what is going on.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Ambrose nod politely before taking a small bench to seat by Arya’s side.

Jon observed as the maester checked her eyes and her throat. Ambrose also felt her pulse and there was a heavy silence for a while.

“When was the last time you took the powder, Your Highness?” Ambrose asked with evident embarrassment. That was an answer Jon would like to know as well.

“Maybe a month ago, I’m not sure.” Arya answered weakly.

“How often you took it?” Ambrose kept questioning.

“No more than once a month, for ten months, I guess.” Arya answered and Jon felt stupid for not suspecting of it before. He could understand she had been afraid of childbirth and death, but still...The idea was unsettling. Arya felt need to put her own health in danger in order to avoid getting with child. His child.

“It’s was not wise, Your Highness.” Ambrose told her indulgently. “It’s a powerful drug and in the long run could have cause damage to your health. Moon tea would be a better option, if that’s what you want.”

“Is she sick because of it?” Jon questioned angrily. He knew her reasons, but he simply couldn’t accept that Arya had been poisoning herself in such a reckless way.

“How long has it been since your last bleeding?” Ambrose ignored him and kept paying attention at her. The scandalous question made Arya’s blush and lower her head, while Jon clenched his teeth.

“This is not something proper to ask to a lady.” Jon growled at him.

“Right now she is my patience and the answers are necessary for me to reach the right conclusion. If Your Grace will stay in the room, please, do not interfere.” The maester answered with insolence, but Jon couldn’t find it in him to reply to the man. He wanted to know what Arya had and if she would be fine.

“I can’t remember. Last time I took the powder, I think.” Arya answered with her usual pragmatism.

“What did you feel today? Was there anything else, or just the dizziness?” Ambrose asked calmly.

“My stomach wasn’t well. I felt nauseated most of the day and I couldn’t bare the smell of food.” Arya explained. “Enough questions, maester. Please, tell me what is it. Will I die?”

“I don’t think you will, Your Highness. For now there’s no reason to worry and a bit of rest and tranquility will make you feel better. I can give you some herbs to chew. They will help with the nausea.” Ambrose said while smiling at her. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”

“What?” Arya asked lazily as she looked at him in confusion.

“You are with child. It’s early stage, so it’s for the best for you to avoid agitation. No horse riding and no exercises for now. I want to make sure the next three months will be smooth for you and the child. You are likely to feel nausea and dizziness with frequency, so...I urge you to avoid crowded places and excesses. I’ll ask for someone to bring you some broth and milk sweetened with honey. You’ll feel better after a bite.”

“My lady mother had Her Highness’ age when she died of childbirth.” Jon said as he felt suddenly afraid. What Arya said to him had some sense to it. Childbirth could be dangerous, especially for a woman that was so young and delicate in constitution. “Is it safe for Arya to have the child?”

“It’s impossible to say. Some women survive it, some don’t. I’ve seen smaller women bare a number of children and others with hips as large as a horse’s die in childbirth.” Ambrose said as he rose from the bench. “For now there’s no reason to believe Her Highness won’t manage it. She is young, healthy and as far I know, Lady Catelyn bared Lord Eddard five living children. I’ll look at her condition closely and I’m sure Your Grace will be holding an heir in your hands pretty soon. I’ll tell the servants to bring the food. Her Highness needs as much rest as she can get right now, so I advise Your Grace to leave and let her have it.”

When Ambrose finally left, Jon didn’t know how to react to the news. His first impulse was to worry about Arya’s condition and the likeliness of her surviving childbirth, but Ambrose had given him hope and reason to feel happiness. Jon looked back at Arya, certain that she would be pleased with the news, but what he found was a Arya with her face hidden by her hands, crying again.

He sat by her side and put his arms around her. Jon could only imagine how afraid she was, although he never knew a woman as brave as Arya. Men were sent to battle to die or to live another day, while most women faced their own battle trying to bring a new life into the world. Arya was a superb fighter, but motherhood was unfamiliar to her.

Jon let her cry as much as she needed. Once she was rested and had some food, Arya would see the blessing they had just received. For a moment he felt guilty for being harsh with her earlier. Knowing about that poison had gotten him mad with anger. He could have hurt her and their child. That would have broken him for good.

“Hush now, my love.” He said gently as his fingers ran through her hair. “You heard the maester. There’s no reason for you to be afraid.”

“But I am.” Her answer was cut by sobs. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“You are the strongest woman I know. The gods wouldn’t have reunited us if it wasn’t for us to create our own family.” He kissed the top of her head fondly. “Everything will be fine.” His arms cradled her gently, as if Arya was a child afraid of the dark. “We were very lucky. If I haven’t get rid of that devious thing, you would have lost the baby. That was poisoning both of you.” Jon said it mindlessly and in an airy voice, like only bliss can provide. “I’ll stay here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll protect you both.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The dress had been made months before Arya’s acceptance. Jon had been so sure that she would have her for his wife that he commissioned the gown so her could have Arya walking through the godswood like a queen for everyone to see.

The heavy white cloak wrapped around her shoulders was a statement of her lineage and it would soon be replaced by a black one. Arya closed her eyes for a second, trying to control her breath so the nausea wouldn’t come again. A few steps meant little to nothing at that point. Jon had already stripped her of her last shred of autonomy over her body. Having him putting the Targaryen cloak around her shoulders was just a symbol of his claim over the land and over her.

Arya touched her flat stomach looking for some sort of concrete proof that a child was inside her. It didn’t feel real and in many ways Arya didn’t want it to be. A child deserved to be wanted and loved. Arya didn’t know if she was capable of either, but at least that and the lie she created in the last minute had helped her to escape Jon’s rage. She would be safe for a few months, but Arya had no idea of what might happened to her once the child was born.

It was snowing during the ceremony. Snowflakes covered all of her hair like a white veil as she walked towards him. Arya had never seen Jon so happy and proud before. For a moment she wished she could feel the same.

Arya said her vows without paying much attention to them as their hands were fastened together. She didn’t remember much of the ritual, but when Jon took off her cloak Arya felt naked in front of all the guests. She swallowed her sadness and pride to show her husband a smile.

The feast that followed was lavish, or at least as much as winter allowed. Jon had a crown especially made for her so she could use it in her first official event as Queen Consort in the North. They shared the same plate and the same cup and Jon would often pick small portions to feed her as if Arya was incapable of eating by herself. She did the same to him in return, but he seemed pleased about it.

There was music and laugh in the Great Hall. For a moment Arya was transported back to her childhood and could almost see her father and mother there. There were so few of them now and it was only natural for her to chose her pack and make Jon her mate in order to protect what remained of her house.

They danced that night; not as they used to do in childhood, with plenty of clumsy moves and laughs; but like a true couple. Man and wife. King and Queen. The names and the blood that would rule the North for a thousand years.

When the cups ran dry and the plates were empty, Jon offered her his hand so they could go to their chambers. A solemn silence followed. The music stopped and all the guests looked at them walking out of the Great Hall. When Arya heard the door of the Lord’s Chambers closing behind her, she knew there was no going back.

She removed the circlet around her head and put it to rest on the vanity table that once belonged to her mother. All of Arya’s belongings had been moved to that room, but deep down she hoped Jon would allow her to have a separate room for herself, as many couples had. She also knew it was probably a silly idea.

Arya felt Jon’s arms around her, pulling her body close to his. Jon placed his hand on her stomach and caressed it as if the child could feel him. He kissed her neck and for a moment they remained quiet.

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive.” He whispered to her. His voice was soft, his touch was careful, and for a second she could feel the person she had always loved and trusted, and not the harsh and cruel king. “You look so beautiful. I wish I could stop the time right now and remain here with you, with all this joy, forever.”

“I wish we could.” For once it wasn’t a lie. Arya liked it when Jon was gentle and carrying like that. There was no hurry, no anxiety and his touch wasn’t imposing on her.

Jon undid the complicated braid that pulled her hair back and kept it out of her face. His fingers worked on her hair like the hands of a skilled musician played the harp. For a while the only thing he did was to run his hands through her hair and there was a sense of familiarity to it. That was love, wasn’t it? That could be love, if she tried enough.

Jon took her face between his hands and kissed her gently. He had never been that careful about intimacy. For a while they simply kissed and held each other like a couple from a song. That could be love, if she tried enough.

His hands got bold and avid as he tried to take off her dress. When Arya felt his hands on her naked skin she shivered at the roughness of his palms and she remembered how those hands had felt like in their first night. That could be love, if she tried enough.

Arya removed his tunic and shirt, leaving his chest naked. She touched the scars over his skin and noticed how they seemed to match hers. That made them equals, didn’t it? They had survived dreadful things. Maybe she was being too harsh with him. Jon had done everything to please her. He just lost his temper once and Arya knew it would happen if he discovered about the powder. She tested the limits of his patience.

Family. Duty. Honor...Those two could be love, if she tried enough.

Jon carried her to bed and laid her there. Both naked and vulnerable, ready for the last ritual that would made that a valid marriage.

He laid by her side and kissed her again as his right hand brushed over the skin of her cheeks. Arya tried to not think about the other nights. She tried to not think about the night she threw her own sister in a cell and how Jon had bedded her with so little care afterwards. The weight of his body on top of hers, his hands pinning her to the bed and how she wanted to cry during all the time. Arya tried to not think of all those terrible moments.

Jon’s mouth worshiped her whole body and Arya kept her eyes closed all the time. She tried to focus on those delicious sensations he could give her, especially when his mouth reached her cunt and kissed it in the most obscene way.

He left her boneless and languid with pleasure before he entered her. Jon’s eyes looked at her face with desire, devotion, love and madness. To look at his face, especially when he was on top of her, was the theme of her recent nightmares.

Even if it felt good. Even if he was carrying and gentle. Even if she wanted him to make her feel good; to look at his face like that made her panic.

Arya closed her eyes and kissed him hard and demanding as a queen should be. Jon was taken by surprise just enough to give her chance to change positions. Arya sat on top of him, with both her hands on his chest for support, while Jon looked at her mesmerized.

She took his cock in her hands and guided it back inside her. Arya tilted her head back as her hips started to move, riding him as if he was just another horse. To have control, even if for such a brief moment, felt better than she could describe. Jon grabbed her ass as his breathing became labored. Arya made the rhythm faster, wilder and driven by the same madness Jon had inside his eyes.

Arya felt the waves of pleasure wash away her fears as she felt Jon’s seed filling her with that familiar warmth. She laid over him, exhausted and not so fearful as she had started that night. Jon’s fingers drew invisible arabesques on her naked skin and she felt her whole body relaxed.

“I do love you, my Queen.” He whispered to her. Arya closed her eyes. That could be love, if she tried enough.

“I love you too, my King.” The words came out of her mouth by their taste was bitter.

“Why did you have to make it so difficult?” He asked and the fear came back immediately. “I never wanted to yell at you, or be harsh, but sometimes you drive me crazy. All this time...I was afraid they would manage to take you away from me.” His arms tightened around her. “It’s over now. You are mine and you are carrying my heir inside of you. Nothing will separate us. Nothing.”

…

In the morning, the maids came to dress her. The Queen would wear black for the trial of her own sister, ready for the worst to happen. Her cloak had a hood to keep her head covered and protect her face from the cold wind; but it was also to keep her face partially hidden as if she was already mourning Sansa.

The scaffold had been prepared in the courtyard and the gates had been opened for the commoners and the small folk to witness the executions. Before it was all over, Arya would have to play another role, the merciful queen.

Once she was ready, Arya went to the small room in the Broken Tower. Two guards stood at the door and another two in the end of the corridor. When Arya passed they paid their courtesies and addressed her as Your Grace.

“I would like to have a moment with my sister.” Arya spoke to the guards at the door. “Let me pass.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. We have orders...” The guard tried to argue.

“And I am giving you new ones. If it’s because of what the King might think, be at peace. He granted me this visit as a wedding gift. Now open the door.”

There was no more questioning. The guards opened the door and Arya entered the room where Sansa was held prisoner.

She found Sansa with the Seven Pointed Star in hand, pretending to read it. She was dressed in white wool and in a way that was far from the fancy and splendid image she created for herself; her hair had been braided and hidden under a white cap. When Arya entered the room, Sansa looked at her with bitterness before paying her courtesies.

“Your Grace.” Sansa said politely. “Congratulations on you wedding. I wish you all the happiness.” There was also disdain in her voice.

“I should have you whipped for what you did.” Arya answered with a dark tone. “I told you something in secret, trusting that you would understand why it should remain so, but you gave me away to Jon.”

“As you betrayed us by becoming his mistress. At least now he spared you of the humiliation, by putting his cloak around your shoulders.” Sansa replied in anger barely disguised by her manners.

“Do you want to talk about betrayal? Let’s do this. You stand accused of treason. You said it all along that you wanted to put Bran on the throne, but you forgot to mention how you wanted to be regent as well. Or how you would have probably killed me for being associated with Jon; or even how you and Littlefinger planned to get rid of Bran so you could have Winterfell for yourself.” Arya could feel rage boiling within her. “Be thankful that I traded the little freedom I had for your life, when I should let Jon have your head on a spike for being this spiteful viper.”

“You don’t look like a prisoner to me. You look like a whore that has been dressed like a Queen.” Sansa was silenced by a burning slap at her face. That was the lesser punishment Arya could give her at the moment, but for once it felt good to have power over Sansa.

“Shut up! Shut up before I change my mind about letting you live.” Arya growled. “I’ll get on my knees in front of the whole court today and beg for your life. I’ll cry for you. I’ll lie for you, but if you say another word I’ll let them to have your head. You will cry and you will put all the blame in Littlefinger. You will live and stay under house arrest until your marriage to Tyrion Lannister is annulled and you are married to someone else. Try my patience and I’ll make sure your next husband is a disgusting piece of shit.” Her voice was low and cold as Sansa looked at her with teary eyes. “You don’t know what you did to me...”

“I wish I knew. You look perfectly fine to me.” Sansa replied in defiance. “What did you have to do to sooth him? What else you could trade to buy his tolerance over such a delicate thing? He is a King, isn’t he? You have been killing all his changes of siring an heir all this time.”

“An heir he shall have from me. If the gods are good, it will be a son, so Jon won’t have reason to be displeased at me.” Arya said between clenched teeth. Sansa’s eyes looked immediately at Arya’s belly, trying to figure if that was true or not. “You don’t see beyond the clothes and the titles. You are blinded by your own vanity and by the memories you have of us as children. Those children are dead. Only the monsters remain and this monster won’t forget what you did. You won’t forget it either. From now on, your life is mine to do as I please.”

Arya left the tower and along with her maids she went to the courtyard to take her place by Jon’s side. All heads bowed for her and men would make way for the Queen to pass. Jon looked pleased that morning. He was a King certain of his domain, about to get rid of an enemy, and with an heir on the way. Jon had everything he might want, while Arya had to tolerate all the thing she despised.

Once she took her place, Jon held her hand and kissed it gently.

“Good morning, my love.” He whispered shyly.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” Arya replied obedient and mindful of her manners.

Littlefinger had been abandoned to his own fortune. During the trial he had no friends to speak in his favor. The Vale had turned it’s back at him and Cersei would never mind sparing a man who had been stupid enough to be discovered. Sometimes Arya wondered if those letters were real. It looked so, but she was no longer certain of how far Jon was willing to go to have what he wanted.

Baelish was a man of intelligence and probably one of the most dangerous creatures in the Seven Kingdom. Bravery and intelligence weren’t necessarily close friends and Littlefinger had no more courage than a mouse when Jon pronounced his sentence and walked toward the scaffold with Longclaw in hand.

Petyr Baelish had his body forced down and his head was placed on a butcher’s block. He cried and begged for his life. He claimed innocence, but the North was an unforgiving land, ruled by unforgiving people.

Arya forced herself to watch it. Baelish was just another man and all man must die. He was no different from those she had killed either with her sword or with poison, but the child inside her seemed to be too pure to endure the cruelties of the world. Once Littlefinger’s head rolled and his body fell to the ground like a sack of grains, Arya had to ran back to the castle to vomit without ruining the Queen’s dignity.

Arya went back to her place and Jon looked at her with concern. Nobody questioned her reaction. She was only a woman after all and even if she had more blood in her hands then most of those men, they would always see in her the weakness and the gentleness of her sex, but not the steel underneath.

When Sansa was brought by the guards outside her eyes immediately spotted Baelish’s body and head on the floor. She started to cry, but Arya wasn’t sure of the honesty in her tears. She stood in front of them, shaking out of fear and cold, and as graceful as a swan.

“Sansa Lannister, born Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark, you stand here accused of conspiring to depose the rightful King in the North, in favor of your brother, Lord Brandon Stark. The letters that incriminated Petyr Baelish also incriminate you. How do you pledge yourself?”

“Not guilty, Your Grace.” Sansa answered fearfully.

“How do you explain them?” Jon asked in his usual cold voice.

“I was a hostage in King’s Landing. Lord Tywin and Cersei forced me to marry Tyrion Lannister. Lord Baelish offered me help to escape such a terrible fate as long as I did everything he said.” Sansa spoke with her face covered in tears. A beautiful woman crying over a sad story was probably the only thing that could move a cold heart. “I obeyed for I had no other option. He killed Jeoffrey, he killed Ser Dontos, and Lady Lysa Aryn. He poisoned Lord Aryn and I couldn’t speak against it out of fear he might kill me too. It was Baelish who wanted to rule the North through me. I could never do it. I could never go against my family.”

“You knew the plan though.” Jon concluded. “Once you reached Winterfell you could have exposed Baelish and ask for refuge, but you remained silent. I can only think that you wished for power, or that you were at least conniving with it. I see in you as much guilt as I saw in him and I sentence you to death.”

Sansa’s eyes were wide open as she fell to her knees begging for her life. Arya took a deep breath. It was time for her to play her part.

Arya rose from her seat and ran to her sister’s side. She got on her knees just like Sansa and removed the hood from her head. Braavos had given her many skills, but the most useful of them was acting her way out of trouble. She looked up to face Jon. Her eyes were teary, but that was as true as Littlefinger’s honesty.

“My King!” Arya said out loud. “I don’t mean to question your wise judgment, but I beg you for mercy.” There was a heavy silence in the crowd. “Sansa is my only sister and most of her actions were guided by fear. Please, Your Grace...Let her live.”

“Your tears break my heart, my love.” Jon answered in a benevolent tone. “I do not wish to see them, especially not in the first day of our marriage. Justice must be served, but I am not merciless. I honor to you, my Queen, I will not sentence Sansa Lannister to death. She will stay under house arrest and she will be treated accordingly to her birth, until I decide it’s sufficient.” Jon offered her his hand and Arya kissed it fervently in a sign of gratitude, before he helped her back to her feet. “This is my wedding gift to you, my dear.” He said it before kissing her in front of a cheering crowd.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it and reviews are appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

Under Jon’s strict orders, Maester Ambrose would check on her health once a week. At least during those moments Jon allowed her to talk with Ambrose in private, despite of his insecurities. With the septons arriving to preside over the trial that would declare Sansa’s wedding null, the agitation made the dizziness and the morning sickness worst.

During those meeting Ambrose would often look at her with sympathy, if not pity. Arya had considered questioning him about that. She didn’t like that kind of look directed at her and certainly she didn’t like how Ambrose would report to Jon everything they talked during those regular appointments. That day she was particularly annoyed by Ambrose’s dark eyes.

“What is it, Maester?” She asked. “You keep looking at me as if I had two heads. If you have something to say, then say it.” For a moment he looked embarrassed and avoided looking at her.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” He said as he felt her pulse. “It’s just...I keep thinking about that powder and what might have lead Your Grace to use it. I know it’s not my place to question your decisions or your relationship with the King, but I wonder if there’s something wrong.”

“There is plenty wrong, but none of these are your business.” Arya’s words were angry and bitter.

“I learned after a while the you were raised believing to be His Grace’s sister.” Ambrose lowered his head a bit. “I would even there say that you still think of His Grace as your brother. It would be perfectly normal if Your Grace had...Problems with this new kind of...”

“Love.” Arya replied sharply. “I love the King and the King loves me. That’s all you need to know, maester.”

“I understand it’s hard for a lady to reject the King’s love.” Ambrose’s voice was full with pity as he insisted on the matter, despite of the risk such talking could bring to them. “I don’t think there’s much to be done about it now that you are wedded to His Grace, but...There’s still time to ...To free Your Grace of this burden.” Arya looked at him startled by his bold words.

“You mean the child.” She concluded. “Why would I do this? Isn’t it a Queen’s duty to give the King an heir? Isn’t it what the kingdom expects of me?”

“It is, but Your Grace is still young and there’s plenty of time for other children to come. Right now I don’t think it’s fair to add this responsibility to something that sounds complicated enough already. Pardon my boldness, but Your Grace doesn’t look happy and after witnessing the trial and preparing Lord Brandon’s renounce to Winterfell and the North, I think I know why you feel so.” Ambrose insisted and Arya’s eyes were burning as she tried to not cry.

“They are my family, maester. All of them.” Arya’s voice came out broken. “I can’t let them kill each other. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family. Targaryens wedded brothers and sisters for centuries. Why can’t I wed my Targaryen cousin without being questioned by you? Besides, even if I got rid of this one, Jon wouldn’t rest until he got another inside me. Night after night, until I conceived again, I would have to deal with his mood swings and insecurities as he discount them while on top of me. No...At least with this baby, I can buy myself some rest, some peace and some power. I understand your concern and I thank you for it, but at this point what you offer me would only make things worst. If those letters had never appeared, I wouldn’t have accepted it. With time and luck I might have escaped this place, but now it’s too late. Jon has me by the laws of gods and men and I’m carrying his child. I can’t be any more attached to him. Our bonds are way to strong and way to dark for me to escape.”

“I can’t help feeling responsible for your current distress. I’m really sorry, Your Grace.” Ambrose said politely before letting go of her pulse. “The pulse is regular, but a bit slow. It’s normal at this point and everything is progressing as expected.” Arya nod in silence just so Ambrose would understand that she heard what he said.

“The letters...” She said vaguely. “Where they real, or Jon had you falsifying them?” Arya asked with caution and without looking at the maester.

“Why would Your Grace think such a thing?” He sounded as if taken by surprise. “I wouldn’t do such a thing. Not even if His Grace commanded.”

“Maybe not by your free will, but I do not doubt that Jon would find a way to coerce you if he thought those letters to be necessary.” Arya closed her eyes. Ambrose’s reaction told her everything she needed to know and for a moment she felt stupid. “I would like to ask you something. It’s not about my health. I’m just curious. How will the septons proceed while judging Sansa’s petition for the annulment?”

“It is a delicate matter, Your Grace. Certainly not something a lady would submit to without a good reason.” Ambrose rose from the bench and picked several parchments from his desk to show her. “This is the formal request. It’s basically Lady Sansa’s narrative, how it fits the condition for an annulment and the evidences we can provide.” Arya picked the document and read it briefly. Something was very wrong about that.

“There are no evidences here.” Arya said in shock.

“It’s not easy to convince a court of Lord Tyrion Lannister’s impotence, when he is notorious for his...Vigor, for lack of a better word. I tried to find some whores that served him a few years ago, but none of them had anything to say about his lack of capacity to perform his duties to his wife. Other than that, it was a wedding performed at the Great Sept, with the whole court attending. We will need strong evidences to convince the septons that it was never consummated.” Ambrose explained. Well...That made a lot of sense and it was a good reason for them to fear the outcome of the trial.

“Is there anything that can be done to prove that he spared my sister?” Arya questioned.

“There is, and Lady Sansa won’t like it. Honestly, in her place I would pray for widowhood, instead of going on with this.” Ambrose had the most unusual opinions at times. For someone who was supposed to treat men and women alike in their illnesses, Ambrose was easily embarrassed by anything related to a couple’s intimacy. “She will be submitted to an examination of her...Of her maidenhead. If it’s still there, then the court should have enough proof that she is telling the truth.”

“Who will conduct the examination?” Arya asked coldly.

“I can do it, or someone else, preferably a trustful woman, if the court feels inclined to make Lady Sansa more comfortable with it.” The maester said calmly.

“What of a septa?” Arya insisted with her questions.

“It would be ideal. The septons would have no cause to distrust a sworn member of the Faith.” Ambrose agreed.

“Good.” Arya said. “I want you to find me three septas in time for the trial. Say nothing about it to my sister.” Ambrose nod in agreement. “Also...Have the maids that take care of Sansa’s clothes to testify.”

“Ate you sure of Lady Sansa’s allegation, Your Grace?” Ambrose was a cautious man and with good reason to be. No, she wasn’t sure, but if Sansa was lying she would be the one humiliated, not Arya. “Even if it’s true, there is the chance that her maidenhead have been broken by other means. It’s not unheard of.”

“Sansa asked my help to get rid of this marriage, even when she was acting against me and the King. I’ll honor my word, which is more than I should do. If she can’t prove her condition, it’s not my problem and she will remain Lady Lannister. Now that I think about it, it’s not even a bad idea.”

Since the day Sansa stood on the scaffold, in front of the crowd, begging for her life, Arya had lost any interest in helping her sister. In fact, she didn’t even want to acknowledge Sansa as such, when Sansa clearly never wanted to have that bond with Arya.

They had always been strangers to each other, more or less inclined to act friendly depending on the circumstances and how much one needed the other’s help. Sansa had always been in a superior position. Her age, her beauty, her talents, always granted her the love and admiration of others and made her the one likely to have the brightest future. To Arya, there was only the shadows of an obscure future.

Things finally changed, but they had not. Sansa felt no less entitled to a great position than she had been when they were children, nor she felt inclined to show any kind of respect to her sister. Sansa didn’t think twice before calling Arya a whore, even when the younger Stark girl wore a crown on her head. If that trial happened to destroy and humiliated the Queen’s perfect sister, Sansa would have no one to blame but herself. Arya would gladly seat and watch her sister’s disgrace with an intimate feeling of revenge.

Arya would have to talk to Jon about it. There was plenty they had to discuss on the matter; not only the trial, but also what they would do to Sansa afterwards. Who she would marry and if she would marry, probably depended on the trial’s result.

That night supper had been a quiet affair. Bran was still with them, but Arya didn’t want to discuss with him anything related to Jon’s political ambitions, nor what would be of Sansa. She feared for her brother’s safety if Jon started to distrust Bran again over something as stupid as who would be Sansa’s next husband. There was a sense of normality inside the castle those days. A strange sort of peace that seemed feeble and as breakable as glass. Arya didn’t wish to ruin it just yet.

In many ways the child she was carrying was a blessing. It gave her a triumph against Jon whenever his need for domination became too much. He wanted that child more than anything and at the slightest suggestion that he might hurt the baby because of his lack of control and short temper was enough to make Jon stop and listen to her.

He was also more carrying with her; more gentle and tender. It didn’t erase all the bad times and how she struggled to sleep inside the Lord’s Chamber. Arya feared that he might try to have her while she was sleeping and sometimes she stood awake for hours, just looking at the fireplace. Arya wondered if she would ever feel happy again, or even safe for that matter. She wanted to. She wanted to accept that Jon loved her and that he simply didn’t know how to show it in a way that pleased her. She wanted Winterfell to be her home, a place where she was safe from harm, surrounded by those she loved.

In a way she had all those things, but the gods had poisoned her wish and everything she wanted was now corrupted. Maybe the child would give her back a sense of belonging, bring back her joy in some way. Her mother used to say that the sort of happiness a child brought to the world and a mother’s heart was the most pure and wonderful thing one could experience. Arya needed something pure in her life.

Jon followed her to their bedroom once the meal was over. He had no interest in entertaining Bran for hours, when he could stay with her for hours. Once they reached the room, Arya sat in front of the vanity table he had given her. She undid her braids as she looked at her image reflected in the mirror absently. There were many faces there; an orphan child, a slave, an assassin, a she-wolf, a cat, a ghost and a Queen. Only the last one frightened her.

Arya felt his arms around her and his mouth on her neck before she could see Jon’s face. He was happy, truly happy with the world he had created to make his bastard’s dreams come true. Arya never once doubted that she was a central piece in all of that, not because of her blood, not because of the titles, but because one day she loved a boy named Jon Snow when no one else would.

“How are you feeling to day?” Jon asked tenderly as his hand caressed her flat belly. “What the maester said?”

“It’s everything fine. Perfectly normal for the current stage. I’m no different from any other woman carrying a child.” Arya answered calmly, although his touch never failed to make her anxious.

“Normal is good.” He said pleased. “Is it safe for us to have some intimacy tonight?” He asked as he often did since their wedding.

“Not yet.” Arya replied as she always did. “I still feel dizzy and I’ve fainted twice these past days. Maester Ambrose insists that I should avoid excesses.”

“I’ll have to be patient then.” His smile was no longer so wide, nor joyful. Jon was running out of patience with her denials and excuses. “I don’t want you and the child to suffer. It’s not easy though. I miss you, little sister.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and smelled it before kissing her neck again. “I miss all the filthy things we do together. I look at you in this mirror and I wonder how would it feel for me to take you right here, so you can admire your own face as I fuck you from behind. Wouldn’t it be funny? I get hard just thinking of it.”

“I’m sure it would.” Arya said as she stared at the tall mirror of her vanity table. “I can’t wait for a chance to try.” She turned to look at him before Jon changed his mind about waiting. Arya looked at his face and kissed his mouth. Her hand slid inside his trousers and grabbed his cock carefully, making Jon gasp under her touch. “Let me give you a bit of relief.” She whispered close to his face as Jon breathed with difficulty.

“Use...Use your mouth.” He said instead.

Arya undressed him from waist down and sat on the bench in front of the table. She leaned her body and with a bit of reluctance she took his iron hard cock into her mouth. She closed her eyes and she force it to the back of her throat, almost making her vomit. Her hands played with his balls as she moved back and forth sucking him like Black Pearl had told her to do ages ago.

Jon’s hand held her by the hair, trying to dictate the rhythm. It didn’t take long for Arya to finish him. She closed her eyes as his seed filled her mouth and going down her throat, thick and warm. She tried to breath through her nose and not throw up.

When Jon let go of her, Arya cleaned the corner of her mouth and reached for a cup of wine to wash the taste away. Jon cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her lips before kissing her.

“Good girl.” He said with a devious grin before moving away from her.

He undressed himself completely and Arya did the same, leaving only her chemise. They went to bed as they did every night and those moments were usually filled with an ordinary contentment that Arya appreciated. They simply stayed close, barely touching, until they fell asleep. Jon often held her in his arms and kissed her goodnight. In those moments she didn’t want him to let go of her.

“You look worried.” He said in a tender voice while playing with her hair. “I feel that you want to ask me something.”

“I was thinking about the annulment and what will happen to Sansa afterwards.” She said vaguely. “I asked the maester about the whole process. It sounds very humiliating.”

“Suddenly merciful towards Sansa, are you?” Jon questioned with a hint of sarcasm. “I agree that it’s nothing to be wished for, but it’s her choice, isn’t it? Why should we feel sorry for someone who would gladly dispose of us for the sake of her own ambitions?”

“I don’t feel sorry for her. I was wondering if it wouldn’t be for the best for her to stay with Tyrion Lannister. It’s not a bad match after all. If not him, who?” Arya questioned.

“I guess it will depend on the result of the trial. I would like for someone like the Tyrell heir, who would keep her as far as possible from us.” Jon’s embrace got tighter around her and Arya felt claustrophobic. “Maybe I can simply ignore political advantages and have her married to a low born bastard like your dear blacksmith. What do you think?” Jon didn’t let her answer. His mouth covered hers in a demanding kiss. “Sansa in a forge, covered in dirt with a number of noisy children holding to her skirts. No name, no title, no bright future ahead. Just a simple minded brute to fuck her every night to remember her of her insignificance and to remember you that you were made for a higher purpose. You are mine and I’ll enjoy remembering both of you of this.”

A sober and quiet sort of strength breathe inside her and for a second she remembered. She was Arya Stark, the she-wolf, the ghost of Harrenhal and the Cat of the Canals. Jon might be king and even a tyrant, but she was no hopeless creature.

Arya pushed him away and got out of the bed. Jon looked at her back as if she had gone mad or simply wished to test his power and authority. Well...That was exactly what she wanted. She looked at him with cold indifference.

“You are pathetic.” She said with a voice full of despise. “I’ve never realized it until now, but it became just too evident for me to ignore. You are a boy playing at being king and your idea of ruling is no better than Jeoffrey’s. Poor Jon Snow...The bastard boy in the shadows of this castle. Greedy for glory and love. I gave it to you my whole life and still it’s never enough. You keep fighting monsters that only exist in your mind and reduce yourself to a creature worthy of pity.” She touched her covered belly and her mouth turned into a hard and merciless grin. “My son won’t be like you. He will be a true wolf, made of ice and steel like me.”

Jon was petrified with fear, despair and utter pain. Every word she said was a blade through his heart. Jon wasn’t the only one who knew her weaknesses. Arya knew his like no one else ever could and a life starved of love had turned him into a twisted and despicable creature.

“What?” He asked in shock. “Why are you saying this?” His eyes were blood red with the tears he tried hard to contain.

“Because I’m done being your play thing.” Arya growled in a very low and dangerous tone. “You take a sick pleasure from torturing me whenever you reinforce your dominance. Threatening Bran, Sansa and Gendry; playing with my insecurities so I become helpless and vulnerable. You forget that you are not the only monster inside this room and I’ll no longer seat obedient and docile while you make whatever you want of me. If you dare to threaten me again, I’ll remember you how much you need me by starving you of love. If you try to have me, it will be against my will and this will haunt you forever. Lay a hand on me without my consent again and I’ll cut it off along with your cock while you sleep.”

He rose from bed and walked towards her like a drunken man. It seemed that he had been hit on his head. His nakedness only reinforced what Arya already knew to be true. Jon might have an obscene amount of power over the North and even over her, but only near her he was vulnerable.

“Everything I do, everything I did...It was all for you.” The tears fell over his face, making him look more like a lost boy than a king. “No one will ever love you like I do and still you insist on hurting me like this. You have nowhere else to go, Arya. You have no one else to run to. I am and will always be the only home you’ll ever have. Who could love someone as corrupted and monstrous like you, if not me?”

Her mouth became a thin line tightened in a sad smile while her eyes burned with anger and desolation.

“I lived without you by my side once. I lived without love, shelter or food. There is nothing the world can throw at me that I haven’t fought before. Yes...Your love kept me moving, kept me fighting, but it was my love that brought you back to life.” Arya replied sharply. “Your life is mine and you will never forget this again.”

Arya turned her back at him and walked towards the door with the insane courage of a soldier heading into battle. She heard his steps going after her, loud and clumsy like those of an elephant. Jon grabbed her right arm roughly and in a clear answer Arya turned around and gave his face a burning slap, so hard that Jon lost his balance and let go of her.

“This is a warning. Next time, you won’t live another second.” Arya replied in rage. “I’m going to my former room and you will stay right here, chewing at every word I just said. I will only come back one you remember that I am Arya Stark, not a helpless girl that you use for your twisted pleasure.”

Arya turned around once more and left the room and a man broken to the core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it and reviews are appreciated.


End file.
